More Days of Our Normandy Lives
by R-I-C-A-R-D
Summary: Another series of unconnected scenes with a view to showing the wackier side of life aboard the galaxy's favourite fastest ship in the fleet. In this series, Shepard receives the shock of her life, Liara learns how to throw a punch and more. Now updated.
1. System Shocked Shepard

This is dedicated to everybody who asked for more. All three of you. You guys rock. :P

As before, another set of unrelated scenes. Sometimes, ideas just come to me, and I run with them.

Previously on Battlestar Galactica...oops, wrong fanfic.

1. System Shocked Shepard

Commander Alison Shepard was seated alone at the mess hall aboard the SSV _Normandy_, reading through after-action reports from the recent Feros op. Well, she was _trying _to read the after-action reports. The kill-count claimed by Gunnery Chief Williams just wasn't adding up. There was no way Ash could've taken out three-hundred and fifty seven Geth shocktroopers. And a Prime. By herself? _Get outta town_, a little voice inside Alison's head murmured.

And to make matters worse, Shepard's concentration was being totally wrecked by the eye-hurting orange light that was flickering crazily from the constantly-busted control panel near the mess. That control panel was a source of constant speculation among the officers and crew of the ship. How what was supposedly the most advanced ship in the Systems Alliance fleet could have been allowed to even leave the spacedock in such a state to begin with boggled Alison's mind.

Really, every time she tried to wrap her mind around the quality control measures in the shipyards, or lack thereof, her mind would veer sharply away into totally unexpected areas. Usually she found herself idly twirling a lock of her raven hair around a finger whilst quietly singing the lyrics of late twentieth century rock songs. Her crew thought it was just a thing that she did to help focus her mind and prepare for a combat drop. In reality, it was her mind wandering around in the darkened corners of her own subconscious, struggling to get itself around the quality control issue. Even now, her blue eyes glazed over and she stared sightlessly at the bulkhead, the generously padded kill-count of Chief Williams temporarily forgotten. Her lips began to move and she started to sing. "Ye-ah, I'm a freak of nature...If only I could be as cool as you..." Ah, Silverchair, she thought to herself as her mind snapped back to the present. She picked up the datapad. Then put it back down. That flickering light was doing her head in.

"Right, that's it," Alison told the bulkhead decisively as she left the table and headed to the nearby comm station. Shepard opened a line to the entire ship and said, "This is your captain speaking," Technically she wasn't but damn, she never got tired of that line. "Lieutenant Alenko, Tali and Garrus, could you please report to the mess hall? That is all." She closed the commline and leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed over her chest, and waited.

Tali'zorah Nar Rayya was on her hands and knees in the bowels of the ship's drive core, helping Engineer Adams perform what he erroneously called a 'grease and oil change.' When Tali pointed out that the drive core utilised neither grease nor oil and that the presence of either in vicinity of the drive core would likely kill them all, he only shrugged and replied, "Figure of speech." As long as she lived, Tali felt she'd never understand humans. Then Shepard's voice came over the commline and Tali wondered what was wrong now. It was a well established truth on the ship that if the combined technical skills of herself, Garrus and Alenko were required at any one time, then something was very, as Chief Williams would say, FUBAR. And the messhall? Tali groaned as she extricated herself from the core and stood upright. She tried to ignore the looks the junior engineering staff gave her as they drank in the sight of, what she'd overheard them refer to as 'her tight little tushie.' She shook her head bemusedly. Humans.

When the Commander's call came through to the garage deck, Garrus was recalibrating the main gun assembly on the Mako. Supposedly, the main gun was good for countless thousands of firings before it needed attention. Just like, supposedly, the Citadel Council didn't play favourites with any race. However, instead of sending a high explosive shell directly down the gullet of a Thresher Maw like it was meant to, the cannon sent off a shot somewhere in the near vicinity and called it good. So here Garrus was, running umpteen diagnostic programs, trying to convince the Mako's computer that, yes, the cannon _did_ need recalibrating. The recalcitrant computer kept sending back reports to the effect that, _no_the cannon didn't need recalibrating. Garrus' mandibles flared in frustration. "I'm going to recalibrate the gun and you're going to like it," he muttered as he joined Tali at the elevator.

"What do you suppose is up now?" Garrus asked Tali.  
"I just hope she doesn't want us to taste-test anything from the food processors. Last time she tried to tinker with the settings, half the crew was stricken with botulism," she replied.

Kaidan Alenko was seated in the co-pilot's chair on the _Normandy's_ bridge, zoning out as Joker compared the relative physical qualities of Chief Williams and Commander Shepard. "I mean, the Commander has those eyes and that scar on her face gives her an aura of 'I can hand you your own ass on a platter' which is _totally_ drool-worthy, do you know what I'm saying?"  
"Uh huh," Kaidan said automatically as he ran a check on the navigation systems. Unlike that fracking systems monitoring unit in the messhall, the nav system actually, wait for it, _worked._Alenko wondered what idiot on the design team had decided to place such a crucial piece of tech in what was, effectively, the fracking kitchen.

"You're not even listening to me, are you?" Joker asked.

"Uh huh," Alenko responded.

"Yeah, like I was telling Adams the other day, I walked in on Shepard, Williams and Liara in Shepard's cabin, totally starkers and just going at each other. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven," Joker said, deadpan.

"Uh..._what did you say?_" Kaidan's head whipped around to face Joker.

"Oh, you were listening, sorry," Joker said, and laughed. Kaidan opened his mouth to say something about how Joker should show more respect to his CO when the lady herself came over the commline.

"Oooh, she's got that 'I'm going to spank you' tone in her voice. You better hustle," Joker smiled as Kaidan got out of his seat and went aft.

Alison pushed herself away from the bulkhead as her three technical geniuses arrived. "What seems to be the problem, Commander?" Alenko asked. Wordlessly, she pointed at the flickering orange light of the control panel. If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost discern a pattern in the not-quite-random flashes. Then you'd pop down to the medbay to get something for the pain behind your eyes. Alenko, Garrus and Tali all groaned.

"That control panel is the bane of my existence," Kaidan said. The others nodded.

"You know those L2 migraines I get? Well they're nothing compared to the pain in my ass donated to me on an almost daily basis by that malfunctional piece of Krogan..._excrement_" Kaidan said in exasperation.

"Hey, I heard that!" Wrex grumbled as he entered the messhall.

"We're going to fix that panel. Even if it kills us," Shepard said quietly.

"Uh, Commander, with all due respect, you are in no way qualified to even attempt to repair that piece of equipment," Garrus said.

"Yeah, well I'm in charge and I say we four are gonna fix it!" Shepard hissed.

Three standard hours and much creative cursing from Shepard later, the four of them had managed to isolate what seemed to be the cause of all the malfunctions in the system. It looked like a mouldy old apple core that some moronic tech had dropped in there while the ship was being built. Dropped and then just left in there. Such unprofessionalism and sloppy maintenance protocols really ticked Tali off. Back on the Migrant Fleet, such low standards of upkeep were punishable by being shipped from vessel to vessel within the fleet for latrine duties. And the fleet had a lot of latrines.

"Son of a fracking bitch," Shepard muttered as she eyed the culprit. She reached a hand in to remove it. "Uh, Commander, you should let me do that," Alenko offered. Shepard brushed his hand aside and plunged her hand into the rat's nest of tangled wiring.

Sometimes things occur that nobody can foresee. Like the sudden power surge that rippled from the drive core, through the frack knew how many kilometres of cabling within the ship, through the systems monitoring unit and from there, through Alison's arm and into her heart. A brilliant blue-white flash momentarily blinded everybody and the lights dimmed ominously. Shepard was knocked backward and slammed against the bulkhead.

As his eyes adjusted from the near-blinding flash, Kaidan realised two things. First: the damnable control panel seemed to be in full working order. If one ignored the smell of burned electrical cabling and roasted hair. Second: the Commander was slumped against the bulkhead, eyes rolled back in her head with wisps of smoke floating up from her scorched hair. Uh oh.

"Commander, are you alright?" Kaidan asked. No response. He grabbed Shepard's shoulder and shook her gently. Nothing. He took her upper body in both hands and shook her like a child rattling a Christmas present and trying to figure out what it was. Shepard didn't react at all. He pressed two fingers to her carotid artery. There was no pulse.

"MEDIC! WE NEED A MEDIC IN HERE!"

From somewhere up near the ceiling, Shepard looked down on the chaotic scene below her. She supposed she should have been freaking out, what with the obviously fatal electrocution and the out of body experience she was...experiencing but she felt very calm and detached. She supposed being electrocuted and being knocked out of your own body would do that to a person.

_So, this is what death feels like?_ she thought. She was kinda disappointed. She was half expecting some kind of godly voice to say "Come into the light" only there was no light.

_Williams is gonna be pissed about that_, Shepard thought as, below, her body was lifted onto a stretcher and she was rushed down to the medbay, Dr Chakwas running alongside and barking instructions to her medical crew. Garrus and Tali looked shocked. Well, Garrus looked shocked, if she was reading the expression on his face correctly and Tali could've been grinning madly for all anybody knew. Hard to tell under that environment suit. Kaidan had freaked out and had to be sedated.

As though she were still connected to her body by an invisible tether, Out of Body Shepard trailed above and behind Shocked Shepard as she was stretchered into the medlab. One of the medtechs lifted a pair of surgical scissors and held them over Shocked Shepard.

_Hey, aren't you supposed to call time of death before you start autopsying me?_Shepard asked. Nobody responded. Then the medtech used the scissors to cut away Shocked Shepard's black shipboard uniform shirt, revealing her upper works. Then the medtech...the male medtech laid both hands on Shocked Shepard's chest.

_Oh now, that is out of order, Mister! _Shepard yelled. The medtech began administering cardiac massage, trying to convince Shocked Shepard's heart into restarting by brute force. With each compression, Shocked Shepard jittered slightly.

Dr Chakwas ordered the medtech away and laid a pair of paddles on Shocked Shepard's chest. Shepard had seen enough medical dramas to know what was coming next. "Charging...clear!"

_Oh yeah, great idea! Use electricity on the victim of electric shock!_ Shepard thought sarcastically. Below her, her body shuddered but nothing else happened.

"Going to two-fifty. Charging...clear!" Dr Chakwas gave her soon to be lifeless corpse another jolt. Shepard observed the way her body jiggled. _Maybe it's just me, but damn that's kind of a turn on_.

Dr Chakwas removed a large hypodermic and filled it with fluid from a vial.

Chakwas grasped the hypo and poised the business end above Shocked Shepard's breastbone.

_Oh hell no, _Shepard winced. She really hated needles. Chakwas rammed the needle directly into Shocked Shepard's chest and into her heart muscle. Her thumb pressed the plunger home, injecting enough adrenaline to jump-start the stalled heart of a whale.

Out of Body Shepard felt a curious _pulling_ sensation and felt herself being yanked back towards her body. She re-entered with a jolt. Alison's eyes snapped open and she gasped loudly as her heart restarted with a _ka-thump_. A relieved Dr Chakwas carefully removed the needle and placed it in the sharps container nearby. _That was the longest ninety seconds of my life,_Chakwas thought.

Later, as members of her crew clustered around her bed, Shepard said, "I had the weirdest dream while I was out..."


	2. Serial Thriller

2. Serial Thriller

Detective Chellick of C-Sec stood over what was left of the corpse that had been found in a dimly lit maintenance access tunnel. The body was the third known victim of the serial killer dubbed The Citadel Slasher by the C-Sec newsnets. Nobody knew who the killer or was or even what species it was. Predictably, the press was having a field day with all the sensationalist speculation on the motives of the killer. There was quite the betting pool back at HQ over the species of the killer. Privately, Chellick believed it was a human. They had a real knack for senseless butchery. The first victim had been found by an unfortunate janitor. Well, the janitor had found the head. Last Chellick had heard, the poor guy was still undergoing therapy. Whoever the killer was, he/she/it didn't just stop at simply whacking a person. No, he - Chellick referred to the killer by the male pronoun because writing he/she/it in his reports was doing his fingers in - went much further than that. Bits and pieces of bodies had been turning up for weeks all over the place. In the ladies room of Chora's den. Shoved down the return chute of the library. And even hanging from the Mass Relay monument. The guy had a nerve, Chellick had to admit.

As his people established a crime-scene perimeter and began analysing the body, that annoying reporter Emily Wong arrived. "Detective Chellick, is this the work of the same killer or do you believe a copycat is at work?" she asked.

"No comment," Chellick said and pushed past her. She followed rapidly.

"Do you have any leads as to the identity of the killer?" she persisted.

Chellick stopped, turned around and glared down at the smaller human. "What part of 'no comment' do you not understand, Ms Wong?"

"Detective, the people of the Citadel have a right to know what's going on," she said as he turned away again.  
"Then I suggest you let us do our jobs and go find a cat up a tree to report on," Chellick said as he rounded a corner and disappeared.

"Do you think we can spin a story about how C-Sec don't seem to be in any great hurry to solve the case because all the victims are human?" Emily asked her long-suffering cameraman.

"Em, I'm sure they're doing all they can. Can we get out of here now? That headless, armless and legless torso is freaking me out."

Chellick slumped into his chair at HQ. His head ached. His neck ached and even his earholes ached from having to listen to that reporter's highly pitched voice. No sooner had he sat down, the comm unit in his desk chirped. Tiredly, Chellick pressed a button and the humourless features of Executor Pallin appeared in the small screen. _Oh joy, another bollocking_, Chellick thought.

"Another body, Chellick?" Pallin asked, without preamble.

"Yes, sir."  
"And you were going to report this to me when? Do you know how much I love hearing about crime here on the station through the news rather than through my officers?"  
Chellick opened his mouth to say...he didn't know what then Pallin cut in, "That was a rhetorical question, Detective. You better start making some inroads on this case or I'll bust you back to the traffic branch so fast it'll make your head spin!" Pallin cut the link.

"At this point, being busted back to the traffic branch would be a relief," Chellick said to himself.

"What was that sir?" his human assistant asked. Chellick hadn't even heard the girl come in.

"Gah!" he yelped and looked up, startled. "Don't sneak up on me like that, Banks!"  
"Sir, with due respect, I wasn't sneaking," Officer Jennifer Banks said, miffed. It wasn't her fault the old man was going deaf and refused to wear hearing aids. Not that turians had ears to fit hearing aids into. But still.

"Is there something you need to tell me, Officer?" Chellick said as he removed a packet heavy-duty painkillers from his desk drawer. He'd bought the stuff from that hanar in the Presidium level. Super Duper Extra Strength Aspirin, it was called. Chellick shook his head. Hanar and their sales pitches.

"Sir, I've had some thoughts regarding the case," Banks said.

Chellick looked steadily at his assistant. Twenty-three standard years old and quite pretty. If you went in for humans, Chellick amended. "What kind of thoughts," he asked as he crushed up his Super Duper etc Aspirin and swallowed the dust.

"Sir, that can't possibly be good for your stomach," Banks said.

"Officer, when I want an opinion on my health from you, I'll personally pay to send you to medical school," Chellick said wearily. "What were you going to tell me?"  
"I think we need outside help," Banks said and held out a holo of that woman who'd been the first human accepted into the Spectres.

"Shepard?" Chellick said incredulously. "Why don't I just turn in my badge to the Executor as well as admitting I can't do the job?"

"Sir, I believe Commander Shepard is uniquely qualified to assist us..."

"Message from the Citadel coming in, Commander," Joker informed her as Alison left the galaxy map display in the CIC. The _Normandy _had just cleared relay in the Noveria system after...dealing with Matriarch Benezia. Alison really wanted to console Liara over her mother's death but couldn't find the words. Something like 'sorry I bust a cap in your mum's ass' didn't quite seem to cut it. She put the thought out of her mind and said, "Thanks Joker, I'll take it in the comm room."

There were any number of ways Joker could interpret 'take it in the comm room' but he decided it'd be best for his health to just put the call through to the comm room.

Shepard settled into a seat in the comm room and assumed the look of polite interest she wore whenever she had to deal with the Council. So it was something of a surprise when Detective Chellick of C-Sec appeared on the screen.

"Commander Shepard, I believe congratulations are in order," Chellick began. Shepard blinked. Why would C-Sec contact her in the middle of deep space?  
"Um, Detective, if this has anything to do with the gun battle at Chora's Den a while back, those frackers shot first," she said defensively.

"What? No, you actually did us a favour by taking out Fist. No, a matter of some importance has arisen at the Citadel and we believe you can assist us to solve the matter."

"Go on..." Alison said cautiously.

"I'll come straight to the point," Chellick began, "For several months, the Citadel has been the site of numerous slayings. So far all the victims have been human. To be perfectly honest, we have next to no leads on the killer and we've come to the conclusion that we need...help. From a Spectre. Specifically you," Chellick seemed quite pained to have to make that admission. Likely he was having his balls crushed in a vice by Executor Pallin. Probably literally.

"Oh...kay then," Shepard said, "I'm not sure how I can help. I'm not a cop."  
"No but you do possess certain...qualities that we believe can help us crack this case."

Intrigued, Shepard promised Chellick she'd be on the Citadel as soon as possible to speak to him in person about the case.

"C-Sec want you to do what now?" Joker asked as Shepard stood in the bridge, hands clasped behind her back.

"Some whackjob's been carving chicks up on the Citadel and C-Sec can't figure out what's going on. So it's time for the Spectres to do what they do best."  
"Pull the Citadel's ass out of the fire without even an official thanks for the assist?" Joker said as he laid in the coordinates for the Citadel Mass Relay.

"Yep, ain't life grand?" Shepard replied and smiled to herself. Really, how hard could it be?

Shepard, Alenko and Williams sat in the small briefing room as Chellick and his assistant entered. Garrus was on the ship. After his less than amicable parting from C-Sec, he decided it would be less than helpful for him to rock back into C-Sec HQ to point out that their methods were less than effective. So he asked Williams to do the job for him. Kaidan fidgeted uneasily in his seat. He hated the idea of the Commander being asked to help on this case. He tried to tell himself it was just normal concern for his CO's wellfare but couldn't quite do it.

Chellick was holding a number of what must have been case files, thought Shepard. He and his assistant sat facing the others. Chellick laid the case files on the desk beside him and said, "Commander, thank you for arriving so quickly."

Alison nodded mutely.

"So far, all of the victims have been women-" Chellick stopped as Alison raised a hand and said, "Wait, let me guess. They're all between the ages eighteen and twenty, are tall, have blonde hair, blue eyes, fake tans and fake boobs. Am I on target so far?"

Chellick blinked slowly. Kaidan felt a flush rising on his face and Ash laughed to herself.

"Well, you're right about the eyes," Chellick's assistant said. "So far they've all been between the ages of twenty-five and thirty," the way the girl was looking at her gave Shepard a very bad feeling. "Tall and slender with fair skin," the bad feeling worsened. "Long black hair and blue eyes," she finished.

Kaidan and Ash turned to stare at their thirty year old tall, slender, fair-skinned, blue eyed commander. Who ran a suddenly shaky hand through her long black hair and muttered, "Frack me sideways."

"Yes, quite," Chellick said. He seemed perversely happy with the situation.

"You mean to use the Commander as bait to draw your killer out, don't you?" Kaidan said, his voice low and dangerous.

"You're telling us that, out of all the thousands of C-Sec agents on the station, you don't have even one who fits the profile?" Ashley demanded. Shepard got up from her seat and paced back and forth in the small meeting room.

"Well, there was Officer Young..." Chellick began.

"Yeah, but she got knocked up and is on maternity leave. Kids, huh?" Officer Banks put in.

"I'll do it," Shepard said.

"What are you, nuts?" Kaidan said and shot to his feet. Everybody eyed him curiously. "Uh, I mean...I think you should reconsider. Ma'am," he finished. Shepard looked hard at Alenko, and wondered just what in the hell was coming over him. Then a little voice in her head said, 'I think he's into you. Trying to protect the woman he loves. Ain't that sweet?'  
"Oh, frack me," Shepard muttered as she finally grasped the situation.

"Commander?" Williams asked.

"Williams, go with Alenko back to the ship and...I don't know, make sure it's still there."  
"Um, OK," Ashley said and pulled a protesting Lieutenant along with her.

Shepard turned to Chellick, suddenly determined to nail the killer to the nearest wall herself and asked, "Where do we begin?"

Alison found herself in a small room in the asari Consort's chambers. Apparently, Chellick had enlisted the aid of one of the asari...pleasure girls to make sure that Shepard was as appealingly feminine and helpless-seeming as possible. The plan was to put Shepard into Chora's Den, where all the victims were last seen alive before turning up dead. In pieces. The idea was for Shepard to go in, alone, wearing the slinkiest black number she could fit into and make a show of getting hammered. Hopefully, if the killer was around, he'd find her impossible to resist and attempt to jump her. Chellick and his people would be in constant contact with Shepard via tiny earpieces and throat mikes. For the first time in her life, Alison wished she'd been born blonde. Or at least had dyed her hair.

Now she sat in a plushly appointed lounge area while the asari cast a critical eye over her. The asari was almost as tall as Shepard and possessed of an ethereal beauty and sensuality that would leave a man of the cloth hard pressed to resist. Too bad she was such a bitch, Alison thought. The asari eyed Shepard up and down and didn't seem to like what she saw very much. "You're the best they could come up with? Tsk," she said.

"Excuse me?" Alison said, annoyed.

"Don't worry. I've been instructed by Detective Chellick to make you, as human males would say, 'smoking hot' and I intend to do it," she said.

"Hey, I can do smoking hot without any help from you!" Alison snapped. She worked out, she looked after herself and, if she really wanted to, she could make a guy melt just by batting her eyelashes at him.

"Yes, well, your brand of 'hot' might be enough to get some drunken reprobate attempting to grope your feminine assets but we cannot afford to take any chances with this killer. Goddess forbid he tire of humans and go after asari next."  
"Yeah, wouldn't that be a crying shame," Alison glared at the woman. _I'd like to ram that picture perfect face of hers into a food processor and set it to mince!_

"Take off your clothes," the asari said. Shepard blinked at her. First she flat out accuses her of not being good looking enough, then she wants to shag her?

"Excuse me?" Alison said.

The asari replied irritably, "We don't have time for your quaint human modesty. I need to know just what flaws I need to correct before we can send you on your way."

"Flaws? I...you..." Shepard couldn't get any words out. The asari looked at her with amusement before tapping a finger to her wrist, the universal 'hurry the hell up' gesture. Shepard sighed and undressed.

The asari looked her over, like a chef inspecting cuts of meat in a butchery and sighed heavily. "Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear,' she said over and over. The human's body was a patchwork of scars: bullet wounds, knife marks, shrapnel injuries. And don't even mention that mark on her face. And yet she appeared to be inordinately proud of it.

Shepard stood nude in front of the asari as she circled around her, inspecting every inch of her. Alison had to fight down a very strong urge to knock the bitch out. She was a soldier. Of _course _she carried a few scars. Finally the asari stepped in front of Shepard again and said, "I better tell Chellick that this could take a while..."

Four standard hours later, Shepard was perched on a bar stool in Chora's Den, wearing a revealing, figure hugging dress of black shimmer-weave. Her hair had been coiffed to within an each of its life and resembled a piece of modern art perched on her head. About ten different kinds of concealer and makeup had been applied to her face to disguise the knife-slash scar that ran from her left ear and along her jawline. Alison could barely move her facial muscles, such was the amount of crap rubbed into her skin. Still, the whole shebang was working. She'd been in the place less than ten minutes and already three different men had offered to buy her drinks. Since any of them could be the killer, she was forced to endure their godawful pickup lines and smile politely as they ogled her.

Eventually, as closing time approached, she sub-vocalised into the microphone dot taped to her throat, "Chellick, I'm getting the hell out of here. If your killer's here he hasn't made a move."  
"OK, watch yourself coming out, he may still ambush you if you're not careful."  
"He can try," Alison said grimly and got up to leave. She reminded herself to act drunk and staggered slightly. Then she laughed girlishly. "Whoops, I feel a little tipsy!"  
"Just so you know, Chora's Den accepts no liability if you wake up in a stranger's bed and get pregnant. Or get killed," the bartender said.

The killer stood in the shadows at the rear of Chora's Den and observed the pretty young things as they came and went. He discarded several of them out of hand. Too old, too young, too fat, too thin, too short. But that one woman by the bar...yes, she ticked all of the right boxes. The killer smiled as she swayed drunkenly and reeled towards the exit. He moved to follow.

As Shepard headed away from Chora's along a dimly lit corridor, she knew she was being followed. She turned a corner and stepped into some conveniently placed shadows. She was unarmed but the biotic abilities care of her Vanguard training would enable her to disable whoever came after her. "Chellick, I think I've got something," she whispered.

"We're on our way. Try not to die in the next few minutes," Chellick said and clicked off.

Shepard blinked in surprise as her tail rounded the corner. It looked like an over-sized bowling ball on legs and was wearing an environment suit.

"A volus?" Alison said in utter amazement. In all honestly she'd sooner expect a hanar than a volus. They weren't well known for their martial prowess.  
"What, you think us volus can't commit murder, human?" the volus replied. He was holding wickedly sharp blade in his right hand.

"Well, you gotta admit, it's kind of a shock," Alison said and slowly raised her right hand.

"Yes, it's always the ones you least suspect, isn't it?" the volus might have been smiling as he advanced on her. Shepard had to smile. The guy was about half her height and almost as wide as he was tall. "Is this the part where I scream 'please don't kill me'?"

The volus lunged forward, quicker than...something very quick and slashed the blade at Shepard's stomach. The tip of the knife sliced through the shimmer-weave and a line of blood welled out of her skin. Shepard winced. OK, now it was game on.

As the volus drew back for a second strike, Alison tensed her muscles and generated a mass effect field around her attacker. The volus yelled in surprise as he was lifted up and bumped against the ceiling. The knife fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor. Shepard quickly picked up the blade. She felt blood slowing oozing down her stomach and sliding along her thighs. "Great, now I gotta get cleaned up on top of everything else. You really know how to mess up a girl's plans, don't ya?"

Shepard heard running footsteps as Chellick and his people finally arrived. They rounded the corner, guns raised, just in time to witness the volus fall headfirst to the floor. A dull crack signalled something was rather amiss as the body lolled limply to one side. "Ooops," Alison said quietly as Officer Banks aimed at the volus and screamed, "Freeze!"

"I don't think he's going anywhere," Shepard said as she pressed a hand against the cut in her stomach. "Think he broke his neck when he fell."

"Great," Chellick said in irritation. He hated it when suspects died on him. It caused a mess of paperwork.


	3. Fisticuffs

3. Fisticuffs

A gentle tap on the door of her small office interrupted a rare moment of quiet solitude for Alison Shepard. Well, quiet if an observer overlooked the late twentieth-century rock music blaring from the sound system in one corner of the room. Alison turned her chair towards the door and saw Liara standing nervously in the doorway. The asari seemed almost to vibrate in time to the music as the sound waves washed over her. Shepard picked up the remote and lowered the volume from 'ear shattering' to 'just loud enough' and gestured for Liara to enter.

Liara looked curiously around the small space. Shepard had been given command of the _Normandy _only a few weeks ago and already the office had been firmly stamped with the aura of her personality. Aside from the official detritus of command - reports, personnel files, requisition forms to be signed and the like - there were a few personal items as well: a holograph showing a younger Shepard and a number of other humans at her military graduation, the digital music player and a small potted plant in one corner. The plant didn't look too good, in Liara's estimation. She wasn't well versed in botany but she thought those brown spots and drooping foliage were indicators of the plant's ill health.

Alison stood up as the asari entered. Liara seemed nervous about something and Shepard tried to make herself seem as non-threatening as possible. Which was somewhat difficult considering that Shepard overtopped the asari by at least six inches. "Liara, what seems to be the problem?"  
"Commander...I.." Liara trailed off. _By the Goddess!_ She thought to herself, _you're an intelligent, capable young woman. What is it about this human that discomfits you so?_ Another thought crossed her mind, _Do you really want an answer to that?_

"Um," Shepard said, chewing on her lower lip. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Oh, um...yes?" Liara said then mentally cursed herself. She wasn't cut out for this. She didn't belong on this ship, surrounded by humans. She belonged out on remote worlds unearthing Prothean artifacts and interfacing with other biologicals as seldom as she could get away with. But, she'd come this far and she'd be damned if she was going to back out now.

Shepard knelt over the small fridge jammed into one corner of the office and opened it. The pickings were slender. Alison doubted that Liara would be able to handle a can of full strength beer. _Probably leave the poor girl flat on her back._Instead she reached for a can of cola-flavoured soft drink.

"Picked this up at a two-for-one sale on New Hanshan," Alison said. Then wondered why she felt the need to talk so much around the asari. _Oh, you know why, _the little voice in her head whispered, _hint hint nudge nudge. Know what I'm saying? _If Alison could be guaranteed of finding the source of that voice and eliminating it without accidentally killing her own brain, she would. Oh yes indeedy.

Shepard carefully handed the icy cold can to Liara, making sure their fingers didn't accidentally brush. Judging by the look on Liara's face, even an accidental touch would cause an explosion of inappropriate behaviour. And knowing her luck, Alison thought, Joker would pick that exact moment to interrupt. Liara popped the top of the can, the gas hissing out and raised the can to her mouth. Alison tried not to watch as a bead of cola trickled from Liara's lips and slid down her throat. _OK, get a hold of yourself, woman. You're the CO of this ship_-

_Ánd?_ the other voice intruded, _last time I looked, she wasn't even on the official crew roster. So, if you're worried about doing her on account of the regs, just relax!_

_Í am not going to 'do her!' How can you be so crass?  
What are you asking me for? I'm just a part of your own mind after all. Hell, now that I think about it, shouldn't you report this behaviour to Chakwas in case it's a sign of you cracking up?  
Go to hell, you skank!_

Alison realised that Liara was eyeing her curiously. _Oh great, now she thinks you've been busy mentally undressing her and picturing her in a fracking French maid outfit!_

"Sorry, Lirara. I was a million miles away. Is there something I can help you with?" Alison tried really hard not to inject any sexual undertones into her question. She thought she pulled it off pretty well.

"Commander, I want to learn how to fight," Liara said firmly. Alison blinked a couple of times.

_Heh, guess she likes it rough!_ the voice in Shepard's mind said. Alison could almost hear mocking laughter. Maybe she really was going mad.

"I'm afraid I'm not following," Alison said. "You're probably the single most powerful biotic I've served with. You can kill people with an errant thought. Which is actually kinda cool."

"During combat I want to be able to protect myself...and...others in times when my biotic abilities are regenerating."

"Ah. OK," Shepard nodded to herself. "You know, I'm not the best person to speak to about that." Liara's face fell slightly.

"Yeah, you should go speak to Ash. She's thrown everybody against the bulkhead and knocked most of the crew out during physical combat training."  
"Oh, I don't think Chief Williams likes me very much," Liara said in a small voice.

"I know Williams comes across as a bit...anti-nonhuman at times. OK, all the time but I think if you spent some time with her, she'd come around a bit." Which sounded all very reasonable but in truth Alison was afraid that if she and Liara got physical in one way, it would result in them getting physical in that other way. Which, fun as it might be, would present all manner of problems for not only the hunt for Saren, damn his mandibles but might also damage morale on the ship. After all, if one crew member was receiving 'special attention' from the CO, then everybody would want in on the action. What was she, the freaking Asari Consort?

Chief Williams was busy cleaning yet another of the umpteen hundred and ten implements of destruction on the ship when she heard soft footsteps behind her. She knew without turning that it would be that asari. None of the other crew could pull off such soft footwork - hell, the asari made even the Commander look like a lumbering ox. The thing Williams _didn't _know was why the asari would be down here in the garage level. She had her own little workspace aft of the med-lab - was she trying to take over the rest of the ship as well? Damn arrogant Council races...

The soft footsteps halted a few metres away. Williams sighed and turned to face the asari, wiping machine oil from her hands on a blackened cloth. "Something I can do for you, Doctor?" she asked as civilly as possible. _We shoulda capped her as soon as we found her. Her mother's working for Saren, what's the bet she is as well? _The doctor cleared her throat and said, "I want to learn how to fight." Williams was a bit surprised. This little waif-like asari wanted to learn how brawl?

"And I want you teach me," Liara finished. Was Williams surprised before? Well now you could have knocked her over with a feather. Williams blinked her brown eyes and said, "I seeee..."

A few hours later, Liara, nursing a number of bruises knocked on Shepard's office door. The door slid open and Shepard eyed Liara with surprise. "So, how'd it go?" she asked.

"Chief Williams...what is that curious human expression? She wiped the floor with me," Liara said.

"So I see." Alison came to a decision. She was going to teach Liara a few moves on the sly and the next time Liara and Williams faced off against each other, Williams would be in for a surprise. Shepard smiled. Sometimes the only way for some people to learn to accept other races was to have that lesson beat into them.

Shepard swept her feet through Liara's ankles, causing the smaller woman to fall heavily to the floor. Without pausing, Shepard straddled Liara and said, "If we were going at this for real, after knocking you down, I'd follow up with a strike to your throat and leave you to choke to death." Liara nodded, gasping harshly. From such close proximity, Alison could feel Liara's heart pounding beneath her and that warped little voice whispered, _Now that you have her on the floor, go nuts!_

_I will find you and when I do, I will kill you_, Alison whispered back.

_Yeah, good luck with that. The only way to kill me is to kill yourself and you don't have it in you. Says so in your last psych profile. So I guess we're stuck with each other._

Alison climbed to her feet and extended a hand. Liara gripped it and pulled herself up. "Now you try it," Shepard said. It took her a few tries, but finally it was Liara pinning Shepard to the floor. _Goddess! She's so...beautiful! _Liara's mind gasped. A thin sheen of sweat coated Shepard's face, and her black hair was plastered to her forehead. Liara could feel every beat of Shepard's heart and yearned to say the words that echoed inside her own heart...but she couldn't. She was afraid that, if she revealed how she felt to Shepard...Alison, that it would ruin the blossoming friendship between them. And that would hurt Liara far, far worse than being used as floor wipe by Williams had done.

The next day, Liara and Shepard met Williams in the _Normandy_'s garage. As usual, Williams was pulling maintenance on the arms aboard the ship but the others who normally hung around the lower decks - Wrex and Garrus were elsewhere at the moment.

Williams turned as the Commander and the asari exited the elevator. There was something...different about T'soni, Williams thought. The timidity that had been there previously had been replaced by a calm determination. Williams would have called it 'steely eyed' but that was a compliment she reserved for the Commander herself.

"Commander," she nodded as Shepard and T'soni halted next to the Mako.

"Chief," Shepard said neutrally. "I believe Liara would like a rematch."  
"Look, Doctor, don't take this the wrong way but you aren't cut out for hand to hand combat. There's no shame in that," Williams said placatingly. Well, as close to placating as she could get.

"No," T'soni said firmly. "I want to show you that non-humans are worthy of your respect as well."  
Oh, so _that's _what this is all about, Williams realised. Shepard was eyeing Williams coldly. OK, so maybe she'd ridden the non-human crew just a bit too hard. But there was no way she'd let the asari woman win just to make her look good in front of the Commander. Williams mentally shrugged and rolled her head around on neck. "Alright, but I won't be holding anything back."

"Don't do me any favours," Liara said forcefully.

Williams moved in on Liara but the asari just sort of...flowed around her and the next thing Williams knew she was on her back with the smaller woman's stiffened fingers poised over her throat. _OK, somebody's taught her a few tricks_. Williams threw Liara off and surged to her feet. For the next several minutes both women jabbed and feinted at each other. Williams was larger and had years more combat experience but the asari had a point to prove and damn if she wasn't actually doing it.

Winded, Ash finally called time. She was breathing more heavily than she usually was after a bout like this and sweat flowed down her face. She could feel small rivulets of moisture trickling down her back and it was driving her nuts.

After she managed to get her wind back, Williams offered the asari her hand, "Well fought...Liara."

From her position atop the Mako's gun turret, Alison smiled as she saw the new-found respect for Liara dawning in the Gunnery Chief. Shepard dropped to the floor and left the two women to talk. Her work here was done.


	4. Crocodile Dun Garrus

4. Crocodile Dun-Garrus

A/N. I'm Australian myself so don't think I'm taking jabs at them over the Australian slang thing.

Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams had bought the book for Garrus as a joke. She honestly didn't expect him to sit down and actually _read_ the thing. And she sure as hell didn't expect him to memorise all the terms and begin using them in actual conversation.

The crew of the _Normandy _was enjoying a few days' shore leave on the Citadel before being shipped out to Therum. Something about finding Matriach Benezia's daughter who may or may not also be working with Saren. Ash would rather they just shoot the woman on general principle. But the Commander felt Dr T'soni would be a valuable asset to the mission.

Two days before they were due to ship out again saw Ash browsing alone in a huge bookstore on the Citadel Presidium level. The first floor of the shop alone was bigger than her parent's entire house. She was wandering idly through the shelves, keeping an eye out for any books of poetry. Then something seemed to almost leap out at her. The Guide to Australian Slang. Curious, Ash had picked it up and started to leaf through it. A smile spread over her face and soon she was fighting to suppress a burst of laughter. Some of the phrases in the book were unintentionally hilarious. She was about to place it back on the shelf when a thought occurred to her. Garrus sometimes struck her as being a bit too stiff and formal. But that was just him being a turian. Ashley thought he could stand to loosen up a bit and decided to buy the book for him.

Book in hand, Ashley made her way back to the front counter. The hanar shopkeeper inquired, "What may this one do for you?"  
"How much for this?" Ash asked. The shop was one of those annoying places that had no price-tags on anything. Which usually meant the items cost more than a year's salary. So it came as a pleasant surprise when the hanar replied, "This one is pleased to offer that item for the sum of fifteen credits."

Ash handed over the money and headed back to the docking bays.

"The Guide to Australian Slang?" Garrus' frowned in concentration as he read the blurb on the back cover of the book. "But there are no Australians on the roster," he pointed out.

Ashley shrugged and said, "Galaxy's a big place. You never know who you might run into. And those Aussies with their accent? It's almost like a whole other language." She managed to keep a straight face as Garrus nodded.

"You raise a valid point, Chief. I'll begin studying immediately," Garrus said and headed to his bunk.

"Strike me flamin' handsome!" the voice, which sounded like it belonged to Garrus called out as Shepard exited the elevator and entered the garage level of the _Normandy_. Garrus was lying beneath the Mako, performing maintenance. And shouting out bizarre curses as he worked. Alison walked along the decking, boots rapping against the metal and stopped at the vehicle's rear. "How are things, Garrus?" Alison asked.

"Mate, I'm flat out like a lizard drinking," the reply came as Garrus shoved himself out from under the Mako.

"Guh?" Alison asked. What language _was_ he speaking? It sounded like Galactic Standard but some weird dialect.

"It means I'm very busy," Garrus said, mandibles flaring in frustration.

"Well why didn't you say that in the first place?"  
"I did!" Garrus hissed.

"No, what you said was something about drinking lizards," Alison said. Without looking around she said, "And don't you start laughing, Wrex."  
"What? I didn't say a word," the krogan grinned.

"You were going to," Shepard said.

"So, what's up with the Mako?" Shepard asked, attempting to inject some much-needed sanity into the proceedings. Only to be defeated by Garrus.

"With the pack of flamin' galahs we have working in here, I'm surprised anything on this boat works!" he said.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna need it ready for a drop in twelve hours," Shepard replied, wondering what a galah was.

"Fair crack of the whip, mate!" Garrus said in apparent protest. Alison could hear Wrex struggling not to laugh. Oh, he'll get his. "Wrex, be a dear and give him a hand will you?"  
"What?" Wrex gasped.

"Steady on, mate! I don't need no johnny come lately barging in here and-" Alison glared first at Wrex then at Garrus who seemed to have gone insane. "Shut it!"

As Wrex stalked over to help Garrus, the latter muttering inanities.

Alison walked up to Williams who had been eyeing the entire exchange with a look that combined sick humour with dread fascination. Basically, she looked as though she was trying not throw up.

"Williams, do you know anything about Garrus'...behaviour?"  
"What makes you think I know anything?" she replied way too rapidly.

"You lie like a rug," Alison said flatly. Williams sighed and seemed to deflate.

"There was this book, I bought it for Garrus," Ashley explained. Alison blinked. What the hell kind of book could turn her stable, reliable turian agent into a raving lunatic?

"And?"

"It was a book on Australian slang." Williams explained further. "I thought he could lighten up a bit, you know?"

"Instead, in true turian fashion, he memorises the entire contents of the book and now here we are?" Alison finished.

Williams nodded as Wrex dropped a wrench. The big, expensive one and Garrus yelled, "Stone the flamin' crows! What do think this is, bush week?"

In response, Wrex just growled.

"OK, this has gone far enough," Shepard crossed to the bank of lockers along one wall and used her command over-ride codes to open up Garrus'. Alison reached past a few personal items and found the offending paperback book. On the front cove was a picture of some weird looking bear-like animal perched in a tree chewing on some leaves. Shepard vaguely remembered seeing pictures of them. Koalas. Cute little buggers. Taking the book in both hands, Alison tore it in half, tendons standing out in her forearms. The book made a satisfying ripping sound. Garrus' head whipped around at the sound.

"What the flamin' hell's going on around here?" he demanded and stormed up to the lockers, clawed feet clicking on the deck.

"What's going on here, _mate_, is that this book is, as of now, very much banned material and you are going to report to Dr Chakwas for a full psych work-up. Got a problem with that, Garrus?" Shepard said, giving the turian the full force of her deep blue eyes. It was the same look that could turn a cadet's knees to jelly and make even the most seasoned veteran pause for thought. It had the desired effect.

"I'm sorry, Commander," Garrus said, in his normal tone of voice. "I don't know what came over me," he finished and glared at Williams who tried to keep a straight face. Shepard turned her look of barely contained homicidal rage on her next. Williams wilted slightly and slunk back to her work area.

As Garrus turned and headed for the elevator he muttered, "Crikey! She's one tough sheila!" under his breath.

"Garrus!" Shepard barked. He cringed.

"Sorry, Commander," he said as the elevator doors closed.


	5. Bridezilla

5. Bridezilla

Andrew was sitting at the bar in Flux having a few drinks. OK, that was a lie. He was hiding out from his darling fiance Samantha in Flux and getting hammered. Something had happened to his beautiful, wonderful girlfriend in the weeks since he'd popped the question. Something scary. She'd gone from being the sweet-natured girl he'd fallen utterly in love with three years ago to a crazed harridan. Andrew had heard of such things but rather foolishly, it had turned out, believed that such things happened to other people, not him.

Samantha had become Bridezilla - she had become obsessed with personally planning out the wedding down to the smallest detail. And God help anybody who screwed up. Before fleeing to Flux, Andrew had spent a full twenty minutes trying to convince the shaken caterer not to quit. Apparently the caterer had done something to upset Sammi - something about putting fruit in the wedding cake, God forbid - and she'd ripped him up one way and down the other. In full view of the poor guy's staff. It had taken all of Andrew's not inconsiderable persuasive skills to convince the caterer to put down the filleting knife and not commit hari-kari all over the floor.

And the florist? Samantha had specifically requested a certain, extremely rare and expensive species of flower that grew for only two months of the year in a remote world smack in the middle of the Attican Traverse. The florist had pointed out, quite diplomatically, Andrew had thought, the difficulties in procuring the flowers given the current...difficulties facing the Systems Alliance in that sector of space. Samantha had not been amused. The tirade of abuse that spilled from her mouth would have shocked a career navy man. Andrew was mortified, horrified and petrified - all at the same time. Some of the things she'd said he suspected she'd made up on the spot.

After enduring two minutes of the rantings of such a deranged woman - which was one minute fifty seconds longer than he should have, the florist removed an extremely nasty looking shotgun from beneath the counter, racked the slide and threatened to gun them both down if they didn't get out of his store right _now_. Andrew hadn't known who to be more afraid of - his fiance or the man with riot gun.

In the end, he'd dragged a still-cursing Samantha out the door, the florist covering them with the shotgun until they were out of sight. Now, a somewhat shaken Andrew sat belly up to the bar in Flux, sipping at his drink after slamming back the first two. Melody, the bartender unfortunate enough to be on duty at the time, eyed the harried-looking young man warily. Her shift was due to finish in just under an hour and she wanted him out of here before then. Melody really didn't want to be around when Samantha made her inevitable appearance and started tearing strips off the guy. You gotta wonder why he put up with her, Melody thought to herself. It _had_ to be the sex. No man with any self respect would put up with that if he wasn't being taken to heaven and back every night.

She supposed that Andrew hoped Samantha would settle down once they were actually married but still.

"You know, you should really stand up for yourself," Melody said, breaking the morose silence that Andrew cloaked himself with.

Andrew's bloodshot eyes, surrounded by bruised-looking flesh snapped up to look at her. "Are you nuts? The mood she's been in lately, she'd likely butcher me."  
"And yet, here you are, wanting to marry the girl," Melody said and wiped down the bar top.

"She wasn't always like this, you know," Andrew said into his reflection in the polished surface of the bar.

"Actually I do," Melody conceded. "This is why I don't believe in marriage. Marriage changes the dynamics of a relationship. You poor bastards are proof of that much." Melody smiled to herself. Dynamics, that was good.

"You don't know her like I do," Andrew tried to defend his fiance.

"And I thank God every night that I don't, believe me." Melody said and moved to serve another patron. Was that Commander Shepard and her crew over there? Nah, couldn't be. Melody was tossing up whether or not she should go over and say hi when the comm unit on the backbar bleeped. She turned and saw Samantha's small image glaring out from the screen, murder in her green eyes.

"Flux, how can I help?" Melody answered, deliberately moving to block the lens of the holocamera.

"Is my darling Andrew there, by chance?" Samantha's British accent, a holdover from her upbringing on Earth only ever resurfaced when she was excited or really pissed off about something. The accent surfaced now. Melody looked over her shoulder at Andrew who was frantically mouthing _NO! _at her. She smirked and turned back to the holocamera.

"Why yes!" Another glance revealed Andrew's head in his hands. He might even have been crying softly, the poor bastard. "I'll send him right home, shall I?"  
"Please do," Samantha said icily then clicked off.

"What did you do that for?" Andrew demanded.

"Look, sweetie," Melody said and leaned over the bar to look Andrew right in the eyes. "This is not the best way to begin your marriage. If she's treating you like this now, imagine what she'll be like in ten years. Or twenty. Or.."  
"I know! But you don't know how it is with her. She's...fragile right now," Andrew said.

"Fragile, right," Melody rolled her eyes. "Why do you keep defending her? She's grinding you into the ground and terrorising everybody in the wedding industry to boot. She shoulda joined the Marines. That killer instinct of hers, she'd have made a great hunter-killer agent." Andrew pushed himself away from the bar and turned to leave. "You're right," he said, his voice taking on a new kind of confidence that hadn't been there in weeks. "I have to go to her and sort things out."

"And I'll be right here, dispensing drinks!" Melody said sunnily.


	6. The Driving Lesson

A/N: I thought I was all done with this edition of Normandy Lives but the little fiction gremlins got inside my head and convinced me otherwise.

6. The Driving Lesson

Doctor Liara T'soni sat strapped into the command seat of the M35 Mako next to Commander Alison Shepard with mixed feelings. Battling for supremacy were feelings of intense longing from being so physically close to Shepard and feelings of fear and inadequacy at the prospect of failing her. On top of all that, as though it weren't enough, feelings that her feet would come off the foot pedals at an inopportune time, causing the Mako, and everyone in it to crash, killing them all horribly. Even after Shepard had levered the driver's seat forward as far as it would go, the soles of Liara's feet barely touched the pedals. Most aggravating.

Liara learning to drive the six-wheeled Mako had been Garrus' idea. The turian felt it would be prudent for the entire crew of the _Normandy _to be competent in its operation, should an emergency arise and Shepard not be able to take command. The thought horrified Liara. To her, Shepard was the hook upon which she hung all her hopes and dreams. If the Commander fell...if _Alison _fell...Liara felt that her own life would not be worth living. Of course, Liara couldn't very well _say that _to the Commander. And it was painfully obvious to Liara that Lieutenant Alenko harboured decidedly non-professional feelings towards his CO as well. In another time and place, one might refer to the situation as a 'love triangle.' Or as Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau might say, 'an orgy just waiting to happen.' Liara felt an intense blush rise in her face at the thought of such things.

But Shepard, Goddess love her was never going to imperil their mission to find Saren, stop the Reapers and generally act as a force for good in a galaxy of sin, greed, corruption and gun-happy krogan mercenaries by allowing herself to give into any emotions towards her crew that she may or may not be feeling. But perhaps after the mission was over...if they were all still alive, that was.

Which, conveniently, brought her thoughts back to the reason she was strapped into the command chair with Shepard seated alongside her. In the cramped crew compartment of the Mako sat Chief Williams and Garrus. Williams hadn't been particularly ecstatic at the idea of the asari driving them into combat, if it ever came to that. Williams made no secret of the fact that the asari would be better off on board the ship while actual soldiers took care of the soldiering.

"OK," Shepard said as she finished securing the five-point harness around herself. "I know the command console looks all sorts of intimidating but don't let that throw you. This baby is designed so that army privates can drive it."

Shepard pointed at the steering control. It was large and, among the other buttons, switches and coloured flashy things, carried a pair of triggers that fell naturally under Liara's index fingers.

"That trigger on the right fires the 155mm cannon. The one on the left, the machine gun. This switch here," Shepard indicated a button that looked exactly the same as every other button, "switches fire control from the driving position to the gunner's position in back. That way you can have the gun operated independently of the driver."

Liara's fingers tightened over the triggers, eliciting a dry click. Luckily for the ship and her crew, the safeties for the Mako's weapons systems were still engaged. Shepard placed gloved hand on Liara's forearm, causing her to gasp slightly. "Whoa, whoa! Not inside the drop-bay, OK? I'm not sure what would kill us faster - the 155mm HE round or the explosive decompression."

"I'm sorry, Commander!" Liara said, genuinely horrified at what she had almost done. In the back, Williams rolled her eyes. This was why people should be made to have permits to operate one of these things.

"It's all right, Liara. I remember the first time I handled live rounds at the Academy. Damn near blew the instructor's head off."

"Really?" Williams asked. Shepard twisted around in her seat to look at her. "Yeah. There was blood all over the place. Messy."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," Liara said accusingly.

"Is it working?" Shepard asked.

Liara smiled, "Yes."  
"Good, great. OK the gearshift. Again, real simple. Shove it forward and it goes forward. Back, reverse. The whole gearbox is pretty much automatic. Bitch of a thing to maintain though, right Garrus?"  
"Yes, Commander," Garrus said.

Next, Shepard drew Liara's attention to the hull status indicators.

"Kinetic barriers, like on a combat hardsuit. Take too many hits, the barriers go down then the hull gets breached and depending on the exterior environment, you can die pretty quickly."

Seeing Liara's look of fear rapidly mutating into hysteria, Shepard quickly said, "Don't worry, the M35's built tough. And it's pretty unlikely you'll ever have to drive it. I mean, if things have degenerated to the point that me and everybody else on the ground are incapacitated, well, you probably have other things to worry about."

"Yeah, like not getting your pretty head blown off," Ashley quipped from the rear compartment. "What? I'm just saying," she protested as Shepard glared at her.

Turning back to the front, Shepard said, "And, most important of all. If you're me, that is, the sound system. Very much not sanctioned by Alliance protocol but hell, who's gonna stop me?"

"Saren?" Garrus put in.

"Well, yeah, he can try," Shepard replied, voice quiet for a moment. She remembered finding the body of Nihlus, himself a Spectre, gunned down by Saren in cold blood. She shook herself and thumbed the play button on the stereo. Loud rock music began playing and Shepard allowed herself the luxury of closing her eyes and drifting away for a little while. The song ended and the Commander was aware of Liara looking closely at her. Shepard reached for comm. "Joker, open the drop bay door. We're going for a little Sunday drive."  
"But it's Tuesday," Liara said, confused. Shepard waved this off as the drop-bay door opened, sending the M35 into empty space.

"Shepard, what happens if the plasma jets do not ignite and slow our rate of descent?" Liara asked over the music.

"I won't sugarcoat it, Liara. We'll crash and die. Probably instantly. Best not to think too much about it."

"Sugarcoat? I am afraid that I don't understand what you mean."  
"It just means making the truth easier to accept," Shepard explained.

"Oh," Liara didn't sound entirely convinced.

In the rear, Garrus' eyes were closed and Ashley was silently praying. She always prayed during a drop. Statistically, you were far more likely to buy the farm during a botched drop than you were in combat. And worse, you couldn't even shoot back at anyone. Right on cue, though, the plasma jets ignited, shuddering the vehicle's superstructure and slowing their descent.

The Mako hit the ground of the unnamed planetoid in the Hades Gamma Cluster. The rocky little world was airless and all steep hills, impact craters and sheer drops. Thoroughly unpleasant. And exactly the kind of place a learner driver could have all kinds of fun at the controls of a multi-ton, six-wheeled widowmaker.

"OK Liara, we're down. Go nuts," Shepard said, taking her hands off the controls. The Mako simply sat idling. Liara began to breathe heavily and a sheen of sweat appeared on her brow. _ÓK Liara, you can do this. After all, it is a vehicle designed to be driven by 'army privates' and judging by Commander Shepard's tone of voice, army privates aren't the most intelligent beings in the galaxy. Just remember what she told you and you'll be fine. She won't let any harm come to you._

"Any time you're ready, _Doctor_," Ashley grumbled from the rear seat. Her buttocks were beginning to go numb. Suddenly, the engine spooled up with a high pitched yelp and the Mako lurched forward then stopped just as abruptly. Williams was thrown against her restraints and swore viciously.

"Sorry," Liara said in a small voice.

_I'll give her sorry! _Ash thought to herself and winced as the Mako lurched forward again. Her head snapped forward then the back of it struck the metal bulkhead behind her. Lucky she was wearing her helmet. Garrus seemed to be taking the whole thing in stride, damn unflappable turian motherf...

Up front, Shepard was debating whether to take over the controls from Liara. She didn't want to hurt her feelings but still...if this were a combat drop, they'd all have been killed a hundred times over by now. Instead Shepard folded her hands in her lap and waited for Liara to get herself together in her own time.

In the driver's seat, Liara balled her hands into fists and uttered an extremely un-asari curse. Then a few more. She breathed deeply of the metallic-tasting recycled air then exhaled.

"Alright," she told herself, "Let's rock." It was a phrase Shepard used frequently in combat, usually right before she broke cover and unloaded her shotgun into the nearest threat, or used her biotics to throw a group of enemies over the horizon.

Liara gently pushed the gear lever forward and eased down on the accelerator. The six-wheeled vehicle rolled smoothly forward, the suspension absorbing the myriad bumps and vibrations. After a few seconds, Liara stamped her foot to the floor and the Mako surged forward.

Outside, thick clouds of dust were kicked up by the Mako's wide-profile tyres, obscuring Liara's vision. Particles of gritty material made minute sounds as they pinged off the hull. Liara glanced at the sensor display but the screen was blank. The vehicle jolted heavily as it ran over a particularly large boulder, jouncing its occupants in their seats and causing Ash to utter another string of profanity-laced invective. "Oh I'm so sorry!" Liara cried as the Mako hit another obstacle, this one big enough to cant the six-wheeled vehicle over onto its side so that, briefly, it was cruising along at 120 kilometres per hour...on three wheels.

In the rear compartment, Ash had gone silent, afraid that if she opened her mouth, her stomach would attempt to turn itself inside out by way of her esophagus. Garrus merely looked calm. That bastard. Finally, after what seemed like an age, the Mako righted itself, slamming down onto the rocky, lifeless terrain with a thud that rattled the crew like a handful of peas being shaken up in a tin can.

Up front, Shepard shook her head in amazement. She'd been trying for years to get an M35 to drive on only three wheels and Liara had managed it her first time...albeit by accident. Still, it was a very impressive piece of driving. Liara, breathing deeply in an attempt to slow her heart rate, eased her foot off the pedal and brought the M35 to a gentle stop.

Shepard twisted around in her seat to check on others. Garrus was seated quietly, assault rifle held at the ready should it be needed.

Ashley had lost her battle to keep the insides of her stomach inside and was busy heaving up the last of her lunch...and breakfast into her helmet.

Shepard bit down hard on her lower lip. It wouldn't help Ash at all for her CO to be seen laughing at her for essentially getting car sick.

Liara looked over at Shepard and said in a quiet voice, "I think I've had enough driving lessons for one day."

A/N: Thanks for the kind reviews so far. I will be adding more updates in the future, including some stuff that's more action-adventurey. Ever wondered how things might have turned out if Nihlus had backup when he encountered Saren on Eden Prime? Yeah, I went there.


	7. What If?

Author's Note: Originally, this was going to be the first chapter of a series entitled "What If..." where I planned to take certain scenes from the game and say "What if such and such had happened instead?" Then I ran out of ideas after two chapters. DAMN! Anyway I decided to stick the first one in here.

Some disclaimers: This one isn't a comedy oneshot. Unless you get a laugh out of the idea of the Council members sitting around singing Kumbaya. Also, because Nihlus gets capped so early in the game, it's hard to get a feel for his character so I hope you all like how he turned out here.

What If...Nihlus Hadn't Bought The Farm?

The feelings of unease and non-specific dread that Commander Shepard had felt as she climbed from the sleeper pod steadily intensified as the _Normandy _swung into orbit over the world of Eden Prime. If asked why she felt such feelings of unease, Shepard would have been at a loss for words. The mission was supposed to be a shake-down run, a chance to see what the SSV _Normandy_, jointly designed by turian and human engineers, could do before she was pressed into service.

But therein lay a problem in itself. As the navigator, Pressly had pointed out to Shepard earlier, why was a Spectre on board? And a decorated officer like Captain Anderson? Hell, even the helmsman, 'Joker' Moreau had been on edge about the presence of the turian Spectre, Nihlus.

Now, as the Commander stood talking with Nihlus in the comm room, waiting for the Captain to arrive, the feelings of unease and dread cranked up a notch. The last time Shepard had felt anything like this was during the mission to Akuze. At the time, the younger Shepard had dismissed the feelings as just pre-mission jitters. Then the threshers had struck. Years later, when she closed her eyes, Shepard could sometimes still see her fellow soldiers as they were bitten in half or dragged below the surface by the massive worm-like creatures. She could still hear their terrified screams as they died around her, weapons firing futilely at the thresher.

A shiver ran down the Commander's spine and she visibly shuddered. The turian, Nihlus eyed her curiously but said nothing. He had carefully read the human's service history and had been impressed by her courage and determination in surviving the events on Akuze. The upcoming operation would provide him with the ideal conditions in which to evaluate the human's skills for himself. If she failed to meet his exacting standards, he would not hesitate to inform the Council of her unsuitability. But something about the way Shepard held herself spoke well of her, Nihlus decided as the doors to the comm room slid apart and Captain Anderson arrived.

Without preamble, Anderson said, "I think it's time we tell the Commander what's really going on..."

As the _Normandy _flew through Eden Prime's atmosphere, following the distress call from the surface, Shepard mulled over what Anderson and Nihlus had told her. Her, a _Spectre_? Shepard found she was in two minds on the subject. Part of her was thrilled by the idea, though she was careful not to show it. Another, deeply cynical part of her, decided that she didn't give a damn whether she became a Spectre or not. Humanity had gotten along just fine all by itself without one of her species as a member of some glorified club for high fliers.

_What next?_ she silently asked herself,_ You make Spectre and then what, the Council suddenly decides to throw us a bone and give us a seat at the grown ups' table?_ Shepard laughed to herself as she stood in the drop bay. _Yeah, I can just picture Udina along with the asari, salarian and turian all sitting in a circle holding hands and singing Kumbaya._

Thinking over her Spectre candidacy took her mind off the feelings of wrongness she'd had since she woken up that morning, at least. As the frigate hovered above the ground at the first drop point, Corporal Jenkins asked Nihlus, shouting to be heard over the roar of the wind, "You coming with us?"  
"I move faster on my own," the turian called back, and with a final check of his weapons, dropped out of sight. _That's it right there,_ a voice inside her head whispered. _It's Nihlus. Whatever's going to happen down there, it'll be centred on him_.

Whatever had hit Eden Prime hadn't messed around, Shepard thought, observing the unnaturally dark red skies overhead and listening to the distant thump of gunfire. Cautiously, the Commander led Lieutenant Alenko and Jenkins towards some large boulders scattered about and took cover behind them. Silently gesturing for the others to hold, Shepard eased out from behind cover and scanned the area. Aside from the sounds of gunfire and the thick smoke from somewhere in the distance, the immediate area was quiet. Shepard gestured for Jenkins to take point.

The young Marine Corporal got maybe half a dozen steps when a pair of metallic reconnaissance drones appeared from behind some trees and opened fire on him. Before either Shepard or Alenko could react, Jenkins was on the ground, unmoving.

As the Lieutenant crouched over the body, closing Jenkins' eyes, a voice in Shepard's mind said, _Guess he got his 'real action' didn't he? _The Commander closed her eyes and swore under her breath. She opened them as Nihlus' voice sounded in her ear, "This place got hit hard, Shepard. I'm seeing a lot of burned out buildings. A lot of bodies." The turian cut the link before she could respond. What could she say to him anyway? Be careful not to get your head blown off because I woke up with a really bad case of the heebie jeebies? Yeah, _that'd_ really impress him.

"Are you OK, Commander?" Alenko queried as he saw the look on her face. She seemed agitated about something, on edge. Alenko didn't know Lieutenant Commander Shepard from a bar of soap, but he was aware of her reputation - the sole survivor of the Akuze incident. He figured she had to have some real grit to her, to come out of that alive.

"Do you ever feel as though events are about to spiral completely out of your control and, even _knowing _that it's about to happen, you can't do anything to stop it?" Shepard replied after a few seconds.

The Lieutenant just looked at her for several moments, surprised by the frank admission that his superior officer was feeling uncertain. What surprised him more was the note of fear almost bordering on panic that he heard in her voice.

Before he could answer, Shepard gave her head a brisk shake, as if to clear it and said, "Forget it. We have a job to do, so let's get it done."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am," Alenko said.

A short time later, after the two soldiers destroyed several more recon drones and a pair of humanoid synthetics with flashlight heads, they linked up with another Marine, a member of the planetary garrison force.

"Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the Two-Twelve," she introduced herself.

As Shepard quizzed the Marine on the attack and the beacon, she had to fight hard to keep a look of composure on her face and keep her voice steady. Things were rapidly coming to a head, she was certain of it.

"Change of plans, Shepard. There's a small spaceport nearby, I'm going to check it out," the Spectre informed Shepard over the comm. _If he goes to that spaceport alone, he won't make it back to the ship. Alive anyway._

"Nihlus wait!" Shepard hurriedly replied, cringing at the raw edge of her own voice. Christ, she sounded like a kid straight out of boot camp, under fire for the first time. Swallowing hard, she went on, "Recommend you hold position at the dig site and we'll rendezvous with you." _Come on, don't blow me off, turian._

After a pause, during which Shepard had time to think the connection had dropped out, Nihlus replied, "Very well, Commander Shepard. It would be prudent for us to stay together. I will wait for you to arrive. Nihlus, out."

Shepard blew out a sigh of relief, and almost felt as though a weight was being lifted from her shoulders. The feelings of unease were still there, but were beginning to lessen.

"What was that all about it?" Williams asked.

Shepard eyed the newcomer carefully. "Long story, not enough time. Let's head to the dig site."

As Nihlus stood by the dig site, inspecting the hole in the ground where the beacon had been, he mentally revised his opinion of the human, Shepard. She seemed competent enough but the note of panic he'd heard in her voice was less than encouraging. He wondered how she had managed almost twelve years in the human military if she was prone to fits of panic. Perhaps human standards of recruitment were lower than he was used to. Still, perhaps Shepard was right to be cautious. Nobody had expected the geth to be on Eden Prime. For them to be so far beyond the Perseus Veil was troubling, to say the least. The Council would want to know of this recent development.

Nihlus straightened up from his inspection of the dig site, hand going to his weapon, as he heard approaching footfalls. Shepard with two other soldiers. Strange, where was Corporal Jenkins?

Williams' eyes widened as she took in the sight of the turian, in a black and red hardsuit. She shot a glance at Commander Shepard and the other woman seemed to relax now that they had encountered the turian.

"Nihlus, Gunnery Chief Williams, Williams, Nihlus. He's with us," Shepard said.

"Where is Corporal Jenkins?" Nihlus asked, already knowing the answer.

"Jenkins didn't make it," Shepard replied neutrally. "You're probably wondering about my little panicky sounding transmission from earlier on," she went on, meeting the turian's unblinking green eyes.

"It does not seem to tally up with what your service records would suggest, Commander," Nihlus conceded.

Shepard took a deep breath and replied, "You know I was on Akuze when the threshers hit the colony. The entire time we were on the ground, I had a feeling that something really awful was about to happen. Thought it was just nerves before an operation, you know?"

Nihlus nodded silently. Shepard went on, "Call it whatever you like, a premonition, deja vu, women's intuition, but I have that exact same feeling right now. Had it ever since I rolled out of the sleeper pod this morning. We are about to walk into some heavy shit and if you go on alone, I don't think you'll make it back."

Nihlus digested this proclamation from the human silently then nodded to himself. It was not unheard of for people to experience what could be termed premonitions and only a fool would disregard such feelings entirely. Also, Nihlus mused, if Shepard was indeed telling the truth about Akuze - and he saw no reason for her to lie - then there was a precedent for her behaviour.

Nihlus found that he was strangely calm about his own possible and perhaps imminent death. He had served his people courageously and with honour before being accepted into the ranks of the Spectres, and death was simply a part of the life he had chosen for himself. If he were to die this day, then he would face his death with the certainty that he had given his all to his people, the Spectres and the galactic community as a whole.

"Very well, Commander. Let's continue on to the spaceport."

"There's a tram station nearby that'll take us directly there," Williams put in.

"Take us there," the turian ordered. Williams looked questioningly at the Commander. They were Alliance Marines; the chain of command didn't include Spectres. Shepard nodded slightly and Williams took point.

The cargo loading area of the tram station was littered with the bodies of dead colonists and small fires burned here and there, melting the heavy cargo containers. Thick clouds of choking chemically-laden smoke belched into the air, making breathing difficult. Nihlus ordered the group to hold as he spied a familiar figure standing alone in the cargo area. _Saren?_ he wondered. _What is he doing here?_

"Wait here a moment," Nihlus ordered the others. Without waiting for a reply, he left the cover afforded by the nearby crates and stalked cautiously towards Saren, rifle in hand.

"This isn't your mission, Saren. What are you doing here?" Nihlus asked the other turian. Saren turned to face him, blue eyes seeming to burn with an unnatural intensity. Nihlus observed that his fellow Spectre's body had been augmented with cybernetic enhancements since they'd last met and felt his hackles rise.

"The Council thought you could use a little help with this one," Saren replied, gripping Nihlus' shoulder as he slowly walked by.

With his back to Saren, Nihlus said, "I didn't expect the geth to be here; the situation's bad."  
Sidearm in one three-fingered hand, Saren aimed at the back of his compatriot's head and answered, "Don't worry. Everything's under control."

Shepard and her companions observed the exchange between Nihlus and the other turian. They were too far away to hear what was being said but a person would have to be blind to miss the second turian - the one who seemed to be made of metal - aiming his sidearm at the back of Nihlus' head.

The feelings of dread and unfocused fear that had lifted slightly came crashing back in on Shepard as she began barking orders. "Alenko! Countermeasures, now!"

The Lieutenant's right hand rapidly worked his omni-tool, using it to overheat the turian's weapon. A shower of brilliant white-orange sparks burst from the weapon, overheating it and rendering it useless for a brief time.

Saren cursed as his weapon seemed to almost explode in his talons and Nihlus spun around, instinctively snapping up his assault rifle, even as his mandibles spread in shock. "Shepard!" he yelled, as the trio of humans surged towards them. The Commander's body was suffused with the blue corona that marked a biotic about to unleash her abilities.

Caught between Nihlus and the newly arrived humans, Saren removed a grenade from his armour plating, then primed and tossed it in the humans' midst. He turned back to Nihlus just in time to take a burst of gunfire to the chest. Saren grunted as his kinetic barriers absorbed the assault. Snarling wordlessly, Saren tapped into his own biotics and, with an almost casual gesture, hurled Nihlus across the expanse of the loading dock. Nihlus slammed heavily to the ground, groaning helplessly as several ribs gave way.

The grenade seemed to be taking an impossibly long time to cross the distance separating Shepard from the turian. _This isn't how I imagined myself going out, _she thought calmly, and raised a biotic barrier. Turning briefly to Alenko and Williams, Shepard generated a mass effect field and threw them both aside, hoping their armour would help cushion the landing. With no time left to think, Shepard dove to one side, curling herself into a tight a ball as possible and prayed to the god she no longer believed in that her hardsuit and biotic barrier would shield her from the worst of the blast.

Saren could no longer afford to linger; he had to get to the spaceport and locate the Prothean beacon. The beacon was the key to everything. Sparing a final look at where Nihlus lay, struggling to rise, Saren moved quickly to the nearby tram. He had hoped to eliminate his old friend painlessly, with a single shot. He owed Nihlus that much at least. But he couldn't afford to let his emotions cloud his judgement, not at such a critical juncture.

Shepard cringed involuntarily as the grenade detonated, feeling a wall of concussive force hammer her into the ground. Her biotic and kinetic barriers kept the worst of the damage at bay, however. Barely. As Shepard attempted to rise, she almost fell over again, unbalanced as she was by the effect of the blast on her inner ears. She winced as she straightened up, feeling something lodged in her back, a fragment of the grenade. The Commander was faintly aware that blood was oozing from her breached hardsuit. _Well that's just great. So that's what? Scar number eighty-seven?_

Alenko hit the ground hard but managed to roll quickly to his feet. Beside him Williams grunted and cursed. He turned to help her up and noticed that her right arm was hanging limply by her side.

"Well, your CO sure knows how to have a good time," the Marine muttered, breathing shallowly.

His CO..."Commander!" he shouted as the grenade detonated.

Alenko's heart beat almost painfully fast in his chest as he saw Shepard, curled into a tight ball shudder with the force of the blast.

Ignoring his own aches and pains, the Lieutenant sprinted to where Shepard stood bleeding, swaying slightly on her feet. Williams hobbled behind him, supporting her dislocated right arm. By now Nihlus had managed to stagger to his feet and, with pained breaths, crossed to the injured woman.

"Commander, are you badly hurt?" Nihlus asked, fighting the waves of pain radiating from his torso, attempting to overwhelm him.

"I'll live," she grunted, holding her hand awkwardly to her lower back before removing it. Williams looked on, glassy-eyed with shock as the Commander flicked her fingers to one side, her blood spattering the ground.

"You want to explain what the hell that was about?" Shepard asked as Alenko applied Medi-gel to the torn flesh visible beneath her hardsuit. She winced as the chilly substance clung to her skin, sealing off the wound and halting the flow of blood.

"That was Saren...a Spectre," Nihlus began.

"What the hell is a Spectre doing, working with the geth?" Williams demanded.

Mandibles flaring in irritation, Nihlus replied, "I do not know why; we didn't get a chance to talk very long."

Shepard shook her head wearily. The mission had gone entirely to hell but at least the feelings of dread and unease had finally lifted. The physical pain she felt wasn't much of an improvement but right then, Shepard felt more at peace than she had all day.

That was a good enough result, she decided.

A/N: Might be a while before I can get an update posted. I know, you're crushed. :P My PC seems to be suffering a CPU fan problem and since the CPU is so outdated, I'll likely have to upgrade both it, the motherboard and the RAM. Oh and deal with Windows product activation all over again. Ain't technology grand?


	8. Wrex's Pussy

8. Wrex's Pussy

A/N: Before anybody has a coronary, that's pussy as in cat. Yes, Mister Tinkles is back. In case you missed it, he made an appearance in the first instalment of _Days of Our Normandy Lives_.

"Here puss puss puss! Mister Tinkles, where are you?" Wrex called in a booming voice.

Commander Shepard had seen a lot of strange things since being inducted into the Spectres - Thorian creepers on Feros, rachni queens that should have been extinct for the last two thousand years but weren't and more images from damaged Prothean beacons than she could shake a shotgun at. But everything she had seen thus far paled in comparison to the sight of the krogan Battle Master calling his missing cat.

Shepard shook her head, dismayed by the way Wrex doted on that overgrown bundle of fur. There was something utterly unnatural, that went against the very _fabric _of the galaxy about Wrex keeping a pet cat aboard the _Normandy_. A varren? Sure, Shepard could see how a krogan might bond with a varren; after all both were vicious hunters with a thirst for blood. A cat? Especially a fluffy white pure bred Persian? About the only things the Spectre could see that Wrex and Mister Tinkles had in common were that they were both anti-social, didn't play well with others and wouldn't come when you called them. Beyond that...Shepard was clueless.

The krogan had picked up the cat a while ago on Feros. At the time he'd left the ship after the rest of the shore party had departed, looking for some geth to kill. According to Wrex, he'd found Mister Tinkles in one of the small shoebox like buildings that served the Feros colonists as shelters. Shepard thought it was rather more likely that Wrex had been in the process of looting the shelters and stumbled across the cat by accident. Either way, Wrex had evidently been so taken with the cat that he'd decided on the spot to adopt him and bring him aboard.

Shepard had known better than to allow Wrex to keep the cat on the ship. After all, there were any number of places a cat could get lost in, like now. But despite her better judgement, Shepard had allowed Wrex to keep the cat. Besides, people who pissed off the krogan, especially Battle Masters, tended not to live very long.

For a while, things had gone well. Wrex kept Mister Tinkles confined to the garage deck of the ship and when it came time to air-drop the Mako onto whatever godforsaken floating rock Admiral Hackett sent them to, the cat would be confined to a cat carrier in the CIC.

Now however, Mister Tinkles had escaped the garage deck and made for points unknown. Hence Wrex stomping around the deck yelling puss puss puss.

"This is fracking ridiculous," Shepard muttered as she lay belly down on the floor of the garage, checking for the cat beneath the Mako. No cat. Though she could see that crate of grenades that had gone missing the other day. _How the crap did that end up over there?_

"Shepard, either help me or get out of my way," Wrex grunted as he stepped over her, heading towards the engine room.

"Gladly," the Spectre replied, climbing to her feet.

Wrex shoved his way through the sliding doors before they'd fully opened and glared at the engineering staff. Tali looked up from her place by the drive core. Tali loved the drive core. It was so smooth and quiet and unlike anything she'd yet encountered on her Pilgrimage. Tali would marry the drive core if she could.

"Wrex, what are you doing in here?" she asked, surprised by his sudden arrival. Adams made to shoo the krogan out.

"Where's my cat, quarian?" Wrex asked.

"Pardon?" Tali replied, puzzled. She almost never left the engine room and was honestly surprised to learn that the _Normandy _even had a cat. Keelah, when had _that_ happened?

"My cat,_ Mister Tinkles,_" Wrex replied, crowding in close to the quarian, forcing her to back up a step.

"Stop it, Wrex!" Adams called out. Wrex turned his massive head to glare at the human.

"Nobody here has seen the cat, Wrex," Adams said, attempting to calm the krogan who looked dangerously close to picking up Tali'Zorah and ramming her head-first into the eezo core.

A low rumbling growl issued from Wrex's throat, "If you see him, keep him the hell away from engines."

"Of course, Wrex," Tali replied as he turned away from her, "After all, cat hair would have a detrimental impact on the _Normandy's_ performance and-"

Wrex was out of the engine room before she could finish speaking.

"Shepard, help me find Mister Tinkles," Wrex asked the Spectre. Demanded, actually. Shepard leaned back on her heels slightly, to look up at the taller krogan. "All right, I'll get on the comm and initiate a ship-wide search. Try not to worry. We'll find him," she said reassuringly. _Even if we have to wait until he dies in whatever corner he's stuck himself in and just follow the smell of decomposing cat._

Shepard entered the elevator, immediately noticing the long white hairs carpeting the floor of the lift car. "That little furball's smarter than I gave him credit for, if he can work the elevator," Shepard murmured as the doors opened onto the main deck. Once at the _Normandy_'s bridge, the Commander took up a position behind the helmsman's seat.

"Open a ship-wide channel, Joker," she ordered.

"Aye ma'am," he replied, touching his fingers to the appropriate sections of the amber glowing control panels. Why every control panel on the ship had to glow amber, Joker didn't know. It was probably a turian thing, he decided. "Channel's open, Commander," he informed the Spectre.

"Attention all hands, this is Commander Shepard speaking," she began "We've all been through a lot together these last few months and I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you all for your service and dedication. This crew is like a family," she paused a moment before continuing, "And at this time, one of our family is in need of all our help." Shepard took a breath and paused to consider her next words. If they came out wrong...well the _Normandy _might well be needing a new CO. "Wrex's pussy is missing," she finally said.

Joker, who had been listening intently, suddenly laughed so hard he almost choked on his own spit. "Ma'am, did you say....Wrex's pussy?"

Taking her hand off the transmitter button, Shepard replied, "The cat, Joker. What did you think I was talking about? _Oh_."

"Mmm-mmm," Joker said, biting down on his lower lip. "I'm thinking you could have phrased that a little better."

Shrugging, the Commander began addressing the crew again, "I'm asking all hands to keep an out for Wrex's pussy. Uh, I mean Mister Tinkles. That is all."

As Shepard departed the bridge, the crew began checking around their individual stations, as though the cat may have suddenly materialised out of thin air without them noticing. Shepard's XO, Pressly intercepted her as she passed the galaxy map. "Begging your pardon, Ma'am, but don't we have more important things to worry about than turning the ship upside down looking for a krogan's pussy?"

"The sooner we get the cat secured and locked down, Pressly, the sooner we can go back to normal ship operations. Carry on."  
"Aye aye, Ma'am."

As Shepard surveyed the crew and Marine detachment searching behind sensor stations, opening up storage compartments and calling "Here puss puss puss," she felt a headache form behind her eyes. "I need a stiff drink," the Spectre muttered, heading for the Captain's quarters.

The decking immediately outside the door to her quarters was liberally dusted with more incriminating white hair.

Frowning, Shepard palmed the door control and cautiously entered the room, alert to any attempts by the cat to shred her ankles. The bed was empty though the sheets bore evidence of the cat's presence in the form of paw impressions and more hair. How one cat could shed so much hair and not become bald was a constant mystery to the Commander.

Her small desk was likewise empty. "Where are you, you little bastard?" Shepard asked the room.

"Meow," a feline voice replied. Shepard turned and looked up at a high shelf. The cat was perched on the shelf, the lord and master of all he surveyed. _He wishes_.

"Come here, you," Shepard said as she reached out to take the cat. The pupils of Mister Tinkles' wide blue eyes rapidly dilated, until his eyes were the merest rim of blue around an angry black.

_Rrroowww!_ the cat yowled, lashing out with his claws. Shepard felt his sharp, needle-like claws rake across her forehead and cheek and recoiled, a litany of profane language spilling from her lips.

Executing a tactical withdrawal, Shepard backed away from the hissing cat and quickly exited the room, sealing it behind her.

"I'll kill him. I'll kill him then bring him back to life so I can kill him again," Shepard said, touching her fingers to the scratches in her face. Her fingertips came away wet with blood.

"Wrex had better hope that the little bastard isn't carrying toxoplasmosis," she muttered, storming back to the bridge.

"Are you OK, Commander?" Joker asked, eyes widening as he took in the multiple lines scored across her skin, oozing blood.

Ignoring him, Shepard opened a line to the garage, where she had last seen Wrex. "Wrex? Wrex, answer me."

The voice that answered was that of Lieutenant Alenko, "Commander, Wrex is uh, stuck at the moment."  
Wearily, she replied, "I'm going to regret asking this but what's happening down there?"

"Wrex thought he saw Mister Tinkles inside the cockpit of the Mako and went in to get him. Now he's stuck halfway through the hatch. Ash and Garrus are trying to get him out. I think we may need the jaws of life, Commander," Alenko explained.

Shepard closed her eyes and sighed. "Alright. I've found the cat. Don't ask me how, but he got inside my quarters. I need you to come up here and put him stasis. Bring his cat carrier."

"Aye aye, Ma'am."

A few minutes later, Kaidan arrived, cat carrier in hand. "The cat did that to you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes and he's lucky I didn't decide to warp him into the next life. Here's what we'll do: I'll open the door, locate the cat and you put him in stasis. Then we lock him in the carrier before the effect wears off. Clear?"

Kaidan nodded agreement.

Outside Shepard's quarters, Kaidan placed the carrier on the floor and readied his biotics, body glowing blue. Shepard hit the door control and carefully eased her head around the threshold. The smug little bastard was asleep on her bed, curled into a tight ball.

Manipulating the element zero nodes in his nervous system, Kaidan extended his arm towards the cat. The air around Mister Tinkles seemed to shimmer as the stasis field took hold around him. Grabbing the carrier, Shepard quickly stepped up to her bed, scooped up the cat and shoved him head first into the cat carrier.

Back in the bridge for the third time in the space of fifteen minutes, Shepard again addressed the crew. "Attention all hands, we have located Wrex's pussy," she paused, letting the titter of laughter from the sensor operators behind her pass. "Return to normal operations and thank you for your assistance in this matter. Wrex? As soon as you get yourself out of the Mako, you and I are going to have a little chat about your pussy."

A/N: Juvenile? Oh indeed. And addressing the subject of Mister Tinkles' name, it comes from the film Cats and Dogs about a white Persian cat named, you guessed it, who plots to take over the world with his army of loyal kitty followers. Only to be thwarted by a young Beagle whose name escapes me. On a completely unrelated note, the title of this chapter is a reference to a British comedy series of the early to mid seventies, _Are You Being Served?_ In the series, the character Mrs Slocombe would make frequent references to her pussy. Yes, cat. Ah, risque humour and double entendres, how I love thee.


	9. Foiled Home Invasion

A/N: Although it's practically sacrilege and totally against canon to have Shepard raise a child that isn't Kaidan's or Liara's, there's already plenty of authors doing Shenko and Shepard/Liara stuff. And going totally against canon appeals to me, just because I can. :) For those who missed my earlier fic _Old Soldiers_, the setup is this: Five years after the events of ME, Shepard has a drunken one-night stand (she's a bad, _bad _girl!) with a fellow soldier, realises she's pregnant and decides to retire and raise the child. The unfortunate father doesn't figure into the picture. This scene is set shortly after Shepard retires. Phlybabe, if you're reading this, sorry about the Liara/Shep thing falling through.

9. Foiled Home Invasion

_Eden Prime, Five and a Bit Years After Sovereign_

Shepard's eyes snapped open in the darkness of her bedroom. Shafts of pale moonlight from the cloudless night sky filtered through the tempered glass of the upstairs windows, providing enough illumination for the former Alliance Navy Captain to see by. A glance at the digital clock atop the small set of bedside drawers informed her it was just after two in the morning, local time. Rolling out of the bed, Shepard smoothed down the extra large man's T-shirt that served as her sleepwear and went to check on her daughter in the next room.

Motherhood was the greatest experience Shepard had experienced, thus far. It was also the most terrifying. Where once she commanded a ship full of elite men and women and, at one point, been responsible for saving the galaxy - how very melodramatic that sounded, even to her own mind - now she was responsible for protecting the single most precious thing to her in this life. Her six month old child, Lauren. For the first several weeks after giving birth - and how quickly she'd forgotten the pain - Shepard had been awake almost constantly, checking on her daughter every few minutes, terrified that she'd just die if her mother wasn't there to watch over her. Eventually, Shepard was forced to sleep out of pure exhaustion and, when she found her child was still among the living upon waking up, she began to relax. Slightly.

Her baby girl slept the sleep of the innocent and the just in her cot. The baby's room had been painted with bright pastel colours, predominantly yellow. But no pink. No girl of hers was going to be subjected to the 'blue is for boys, pink is for girls' crap. And speaking of, Shepard couldn't believe how difficult it was to find baby clothes that weren't pink or blue. Somebody out there suffered from a real lack of imagination, she had thought at time, exploring the baby wear at the local department store.

Standing over the cot, and the sleeping child within it, Shepard was again struck by how impossibly delicate Lauren appeared. A shock of black hair surrounded her fragile head and, when she was awake, her blue eyes stared alertly at everything. As she stood watching her child sleep, Shepard heard a faint sound from downstairs. Head cocked to one side, Shepard concentrated on filtering out the sounds of the house - the faint hum of the air conditioner, the thump of the refrigerator's compressor as it kicked on, the faint shuffling sounds of an intruder in the house.

_And after I spent a small fortune on the security system_. With a final look at her child, her very own sleeping beauty, Shepard returned to her bedroom and made ready to confront the intruder.

Carefully, so as to avoid making any sounds herself, Shepard eased open the doors to her wardrobe and slid the coat hangers to one side, revealing the wall safe behind them. She pressed her right palm to the biometric scanner, opening the safe and Shepard quickly removed the shotgun from within. She hoped she wouldn't have to use it, she really did. For a start, a shotgun blast would wake her daughter and Lauren would be incredibly upset if her sleep were interrupted. Her cries could probably be compared to those of banshees. Secondly, blowing somebody's insides out through their back would leave a hell of a mess on the carpet. _Should have gone with the tiles, so much easier to mop up the blood, afterwards._

Shepard supposed she could just place a call to the local police and wait for them to arrive but by the time they did, the intruder would be gone and, only having been retired for a short time, Shepard felt more than capable of dealing with the problem herself.

The retired Captain looked down at herself and frowned. She decided the over-large T-shirt bearing the words _Vanguards Do it Biotically _wasn't quite the appropriate attire for confronting a possibly armed intruder. On the other hand, she had to move quickly and breaking the hardsuit that she really wasn't supposed to have out of storage, running the diagnostics and actually sealing herself into it would take too long.

Shotgun in hand, Shepard grabbed the silken red kimono she'd picked up on her last shore leave in Japan, before retirement. Knotting the sash of the kimono, patterned with tigers and dragons, the ex Spectre padded silently down the hall to the top of the staircase. Pausing at the top of the flight of stairs, Shepard listened carefully. The intruder seemed to be in the lounge area. Carefully placing each foot so as to avoid giving away her position with a creaking riser, Shepard made her way downstairs.

The intruder, a human of average height from the looks of him, was indeed in the lounge room, back to Shepard as he inspected the stereo system on sitting on the entertainment unit.

"Touch the sound system and you're a dead man," Shepard said, voice just loud enough to carry across the room. The man jumped as though somebody had jabbed him in the butt with a fireplace poker and spun around. Aiming her weapon at the man's head Shepard switched on the powerful flashlight mounted under the barrel. The harsh blue-white light forced the man to raise his hand in front of his eyes.

He seemed familiar to Shepard. "You seem familiar," she said, voice conversational. She had the gun, after all, she could afford to be conversational. "Have we met?"

"Ah God that's bright! Wanna move the light outta my eyes?" he replied, wincing.

"But if I did that, I wouldn't be aiming the gun at your head anymore, would I?" Shepard explained. A small part of her was enjoying this diversion from nappy changes and three AM feedings. Much as she loved her daughter, there were times when Shepard missed the feel of her gun in her hands. Maybe she should consider taking up trap shooting? _Pull! BLAM!_ A slow smile appeared on her face as she eyed the man before her. She'd definitely seen him before. Where?

"How did you get in here? I mean, I know every security system has flaws but come on. Help me out here."

The man said nothing, eyes squeezed almost shut to block out the light. Then a light dawned in Shepard's own mind and it became obvious to her. "You work for the company that sold me the security system in the first place. I remember seeing you coming out of one of the back office areas."  
"I...I don't know what you're talking about," the man said, eyes flitting back and forth, as though looking for a way out. Shepard smiled broadly. This was fun! "Oh come now, don't be shy. I'm not angry. Well I am, a bit but mostly I'm impressed. Your company installs security systems in the homes of unsuspecting people then, with your inside knowledge of how the systems work, _you_ come along, disable the systems, and rob people blind. The perfect crime!"

Her unwelcome guest said nothing to that and Shepard carried on speaking in low tones, "For future reference though, you may want to actually case the residence first, to make sure the homeowner isn't at home."

The man's shoulder's slumped. This crazy kimono-wearing gun-toting bitch had him cold. "All right, all right. You got me! Now are you gonna stop pointing the gun at me?"

Shepard snorted. "Hell no!" Backing towards the cordless phone sitting on a side table, Shepard continued, "Now I'm going to call the constabulary and have them come pick you up. Don't try anything stupid, now. I'm not above gunning down an unarmed man, if I think he's a threat to me and mine."

Keeping her gaze on the man and holding the shotgun in a one-handed grip, the fingers of Shepard's other hand danced across the surface of the table, seeking the phone. _Got it!_ Phone in hand, the retired Spectre risked a quick downward glance at the keypad, looking for the right speed-dial number. She looked back up as the man made a run for the front door.

Instinctively, Shepard tapped into her biotics and hurled the man into the nearest wall. However, with her biotic amplifier in the upstairs safe, the hurl was more like a gentle push. The man staggered slightly before regaining his balance. Sighing heavily, Shepard intercepted her would-be robber, and casting the gun aside, grabbed him by the shoulder, dislocating his right arm. The man's scream was quickly cut off as Shepard clamped her hand over his mouth, tight.

"Mmmmphhh!" her uninvited guest said into the palm of her hand, "Mmmphhh!"

"I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth. Mainly because I don't like the sensation of your spit on my skin. I'm asking you to _please_ be quiet because my little girl's asleep upstairs and if she wakes up, she won't be happy. Then I won't be happy. With you. Then who knows what I'd have to do with you. Nod if you understand."

Jerkily, the man's head nodded up and down. Shepard carefully eased her hand away before quickly backing up and retrieving the shotgun. The flashlight beam revealed the man's face, sweaty and ashen with pain. "You bitch!" he began. Shepard glared at him. "You broke my arm!" he finished in a quieter voice.

"Oh please. Your arm's just dislocated. If you like, I can break your other arm, so you can appreciate the contrast." The man sat on the floor, slumped against the wall and shook his head frantically.

"All right then. Now I'm going to all the cops. Stay right where you are."  
"You can't keep me here! I know my rights!" the intruder protested.

Shepard laughed. "Rights," she said as she picked up the phone again. "That's a good one. You break into my home-"  
"Technically, I didn't break into anything," he clarified, as though that small distinction put him above other common criminals.

"Tell that to the courts, slick. Break into my home, fully intent on robbing me blind and then you have the nerve to complain when the homeowner exercises her rights to defend her property? I'm gobsmacked. I really am. Absolutely...Hello, police? Yes, I'd like to report a crime. I just caught a man trying to rob my house. Might want to send along a detective from the robbery division as well, I have a feeling I may have inadvertently solved a large number of recent robberies, too."

Placing the phone back on the table, Shepard renewed her two-handed grip on the shotgun, an older Storm Mark 1. Not a patch on her old Spectre-issue weapon, christened _Widowmaker_ but deadly enough against a man armoured only in dark jeans and a shirt. "Get up and sit down over there," Shepard told him nodding towards an overstuffed lounge chair. The man went, wincing as he supported his bad arm with his other hand.

"Now what?" he grumbled as he seated himself. Shepard sat down opposite him, feet crossed at the ankles, covering him with the Storm.

"Now? Now we wait. Cops should be about twenty minutes."

"You can't keep me here like this!" the man said, voice rising. Shepard merely raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly.

"What are you going to do, have the cops arrest me?" she asked, smirking. "Even if they did, they'd still take you in for what I'm guessing is a long string of burglaries."

"You assaulted me!" the man insisted. This hadn't turned out at all like he'd planned. Actually, there hadn't been much of a plan to begin with. Just use his knowledge of security systems to gain entry to a house and take whatever he could carry. The crazy gun toting bitch was right about him not casing the place, he was forced to admit. Who did this scrag think she was anyway? Some kind of ex-military special forces operative?

"If anybody asks, you tripped and fell badly. Who are the cops going to believe, an upstanding former Spectre or a petty crim like yourself?" Shepard looked on in amusement as realisation dawned on the man's face. "You honestly had no idea whose house you were attempting to rob?" she asked, shaking her head. Apparently her saving the galaxy was rapidly fading from said galaxy's collective memory. Oh well, Shepard had gotten heartily sick of total strangers hitting her up for autographs and photos long ago. Fading into obscurity wasn't bad, by comparison.

"Spectre? Oh hell _no_!" the robber breathed. "You're _that_ Shepard?"

"There's more than one?" Shepard asked, honestly curious. She eased her right index finger off the trigger, resting it instead on the trigger guard.

"Well yeah. Shepard's a fairly common name, after all," the man said shrugging. It was an awkward shrug, with only his left shoulder moving up and down. His head slumped forward as he heard the sounds of a vehicle pulling up in front of the house.

"Oh!" the former Captain said brightly, "The police are here already! Goody."

As the two uniformed officers, a man and a woman led the would-be thief to their cruiser, he said loudly, " She assaulted me! She broke my arm!"

"Dislocated," Shepard corrected the man. "Dis lo cay ted," she emphasised each syllable. "And besides, you tripped and fell trying to escape, don't you remember?"

"That's a damn lie! Look at her! She's got a gun!" the thief was almost frantic now, trying to convince the police that he was, in fact, the real victim.

"I have a legal permit for this weapon, run my name through your omni-tool," Shepard invited one of the officers. She waited as the female officer did so. When she was done, the officer looked at Shepard with renewed respect. "Wow, I never expected to meet humanity's first Spectre!" she said before turning to the thief, "And _you,_ attempting to rob her. You should be ashamed. Don't worry, Captain, we'll take care of everything. After all, he only tripped and fell, right?"

"Oh indeed," Shepard said, nodding.

And with that, the two officers bundled the man into their cruiser. By now he was ranting about police corruption. Shepard shut the door on them and went back to bed.


	10. CSection

10 C-Section

When Banks was younger, a career in Citadel Security had seemed like it would be full of adventure with a dash of danger. A younger Jennifer Banks had envisaged herself helping take down armed criminals in the Wards or maybe uncovering that bit of crucial evidence that would bust a case wide open - and if she were honest with herself, raise her profile among the turian-heavy patrols. Instead she had found herself in a cubicle in the C-Sec Academy entering incident reports into the database. The then twenty year old Jennifer Banks was little more than a glorified secretary. A secretary authorised to carry a gun but still, a secretary. Regardless, the young woman was determined to rise through the ranks and by the end of her first year, had been assigned a foot patrol route in the Wards. Fairly standard stuff - offering directions to lost tourists and that sort of thing but it was a start.

During high school, at one of those career information presentations, recruiters and instructors from the C-Sec Academy offered the students a chance at getting on the fast track to a career in Citadel Security. Most of the other kids in Banks' class had scoffed at the idea, though she had jumped at the chance. She had always been a high achiever in school - teacher's pet, suck-up, nerd, the other kids used to call her. Then, while most of the rest were attempting to hold down three different jobs just to pay their way through university, Banks had graduated from high school and straight into an intensive training program on the Citadel itself. The very heart of the galactic community. Leaving her family and friends behind had been difficult but the transition had been worth it.

At twenty-three years standard, Banks hadn't been around to experience first-hand the ripples caused by the First Contact War, or the Relay 314 Incident, as the turians knew it. But even twenty-six years after the Council had forged a peace between humanity and turians, there was still lingering resentment on both sides. Banks hoped that by performing her duties to the best of her abilities, she could do her part in helping humanity earn the respect of the other races in Citadel Space. Particularly the turians.

Of course, there was always going to be some drunken waste of oxygen loser who would do his best to not only drag down humanity as a whole but tarnish the reputation of C-Sec itself. For those two reasons, Banks utterly loathed Harkin. She had plenty of other reasons to despise the man - he was coarse, sexist, corrupt and took absolutely no responsibility for his problems, preferring instead to blame everybody from the Executor on down. Sure, Pallin had a reputation for being a real hard-ass and he was more than a bit skeptical about humanity's place in the galaxy but about Harkin, the Executor was right.

Banks' immediate superior, Detective Chellick, with whom she had cracked the Citadel Slasher case had instructed her to get down to Chora's in response to a drunk and disorderly report. Three guesses as to who was the cause of the report and the first two guesses don't count.

Chora's Den was like a krogan - it just wouldn't die. No matter how many busts and arrests were made at the place, people kept flocking to it. Perhaps, Banks thought, that was part of its appeal - if a person wanted to be seen to be travelling in certain criminal circles, they frequented Chora's. Then there was Fist, a small-time crook with big-time delusions of adequacy. Even C-Sec investigators didn't know the whole story, but the now-deceased boss of Chora's had pissed someone off badly enough that the someone in question had set a krogan mercenary on him. Somehow or other, that krogan mercenary had hooked up with the crew of the SSV _Normandy_, and, together, they had proceeded to clean out Chora's from one end to the other. Even after all that, Chora's had been back in business almost immediately afterwards - the meatwagon had yet to depart with Fist's shotgunned corpse in the back when the staff returned, setting the place to rights as soon as C-Sec had finished their investigations. Banks shook her head at the thought...harder to kill than a krogan.

Banks along with Officer Eddie Lang exited the rapid transit car just outside the 'gentleman's club' that was Chora's Den. Even from out here Banks could hear a male's voice raised in a shout and the sound of smashing glass.

"I hope he forces me to draw down on him, I really do," Banks muttered as she and Lang walked rapidly to the club's entrance. The heavy set blonde officer glanced askance at the slightly older woman. Lang had been in C-Sec a little over a year and had mostly been relegated to running diagnostic checks on various pieces of C-Sec equipment - computer terminals and the like. Jen seemed a little too eager for action, he felt. Still, she had assisted the Detective in solving the Slasher case - that had been nasty, and she had even gotten to work briefly with the Spectre, Commander Shepard. Lang shook his head as he remembered the look on Chellick's face after Shepard had accidentally killed the Slasher. The paperwork...

"I'll kill all you alien freaks!" Harkin yelled as they entered the club. The middle-aged man - suspended from duty for drinking on the job - was holding the broken neck of a liquor bottle to the throat of one of the asari dancing girls. That had to be a fun job, Banks thought. Spending your days clad in little more than a few strips of strategically placed material with drunks ogling you and yelling at you to get your tits out.

To her credit, the asari seemed fairly calm. Maybe this sort of thing happened to her often, Banks mused. Harkin's hand trembled and the jagged glass of the bottle came dangerously close to slashing the dancer's neck. The rest of the patrons seemed disinclined to get involved. Some of them were egging Harking on. "Go on! Give those stuck up asari a lesson," another, equally drunk human yelled.

"Lang, go sort that jerk out," Banks told the other officer, nodding towards the overweight man a few tables away.

"Oh, look! It's Officer Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee!" Harkin sneered as he saw them enter.

"Let the girl go, Harkin. I'm taking you in," Banks said, voice level. She placed a hand on her stunner. A single jab from that and Harkin would be reduced to a twitching heap on the liquor-soaked floor, muscles jerking from the shock.

"You and what army?" Harkin slurred. "Come any closer and I shwear I'll cut her throat. I'll open her up and she'll be dead before you can call for the medics." Harkin jabbed his captive with the bottle, jagged points dimpling the skin of her throat and she jerked back, gasping.

"What's the matter, Harkin?" Banks taunted him, "Is a big man like you afraid of a little chick like me? Come on, let her go and try me, if you think you're hard enough." Banks prayed that she hadn't pushed him too far. Harkin's eyes went wide and his face flushed an ugly mottled purple. Oh damn.

Shoving the asari to one side, Harkin came in at Banks like a bull charging the matador. Banks smiled, corners of her hazel eyes crinkling. Guys like Harkin were so easy to play. Just call their precious manhood into question and _bang_, they became testosterone-fueled morons, reduced to thinking with their genitals rather than their brains. Snorting like an animal in heat - which he more or less was - Harkin swung wildly at Banks' face but Banks wasn't where she had been a second before. Nimbly sidestepping the drunk, Banks grabbed him by the upper body and face-planted him into the grimy floor. His right hand opened and the broken bottle rolled away.

Banks put her knee into Harkin's lower back, putting her weight on him. She wasn't a particularly large girl, but the shock of being slammed into the floor seemed to have stunned Harkin and he was unresisting as she forced his arms behind his back and cuffed him.

Banks turned as she heard somebody applauding. It was the asari dancer. She seemed to be in good shape after her encounter. Banks hauled Harkin upright and he swayed unsteadily from side to side. This close to him, she could smell the reek of liquor, failed aspirations and unwashed clothing.

"Harkin, I'm placing you under arrest for drunk and disorderly behaviour, deprivation of liberty, going armed in public to cause fear, making threats of violence, destruction of property - yeah the liquor bottle, deal with it, assaulting a C-Sec officer," Banks paused to take a breath and Harkin grunted, "I never laid a hand on you, you bitch."

"Yeah, but you _wanted to_ and a broken bottle like that can cause some nasty injuries. Heck, I'm almost inclined to cut myself up a bit and say _you_did it, that'd be enough to get you some jail time. But unlike you, I respect the law and I don't manufacture evidence." Looking at the asari, Banks said, "Ma'am, I'm going to need you to come down to the C-Sec Academy and give a statement."

The asari nodded and headed for the staff area. A few minutes later she returned, a long coat covering her outfit.

"I hope you get what's coming to you," the dancer told Harkin. _Don't we all_ thought Banks.

Turning to Eddie, who had cuffed his own troublemaker, Banks said, "You OK there, Lang?"

"Everything's fine, Officer Banks. I got this one down for creating a public nuisance, inciting violence and, when I ran his name through my omni-tool, I found out he's on probation for an earlier incident." Looking his collar in the eye, Lang said, "Looks like you're going back to the big house."

Banks surveyed the other patrons of Chora's who had been avidly observing the entertainment with eager eyes. "All right people, nothing to see here," she said and began walking Harkin out the door, Lang close behind her.

Jen smiled to herself as she and Lang walked their charges to the rapid transit terminal. This, this was more like it. This was what she had signed up for.

A/N: Harkin has always struck me as a sexist pig. I don't much like sexist pigs and, the idea of a having a girl half his age toss him to the floor appealed to me.


	11. What If? II

What If...Conrad Verner was more than just an annoying fan?

A/N: The more I play Mass Effect, the more potential I see in Conrad Verner for him to go from Annoying Fan to obsessed stalker with murder on his mind. This was intended as the second chapter in the ill-fated What If?... series. Couple of disclaimers: 1. this one is a bit Alternate Universe, I guess and 2. Assume Shepard's having a series of bad days when encountering Conrad.

Remmak, if you're reading this and you want me to axe the C-Section chapter, just let me know.

_You go  
I feel like dropping bombs between your eyes  
But not today_

_Too slow  
I feel like sinking arrows in your mind  
It's all the same_

Powderfinger, Belter

The Kessler felt heavy in Conrad Verner's hand. He realized that his actions may be misconstrued by others, they'd think he was 'taking things too far' or maybe 'taking things personally.' How else was he meant to take it? All he had wanted was for Shepard to acknowledge his existence. Sign her autograph. How hard could it be? Oh, but the high and mighty Commander Shepard was too busy for the likes of him, now that she was a _Spectre!_

His interest - OK, _obsession _- with Shepard had started when he'd seen a news vid the day she'd been inducted into the ranks of the Spectres. Conrad had felt so full of pride and admiration, he thought he'd burst. And yeah, the Commander was very attractive as well, scar or no scar. Part of him wondered if he'd have felt so jacked off by her brushing him off if she'd been a man. Then he decided that it didn't matter. She was famous, famous people had certain...responsibilities to their fans. A simple _autograph_!

"Is that..oh wow! Commander Shepard!" he had called out to her as she led a turian and krogan through the markets in the lower Wards. Shepard had paused briefly, looking at him with her blue eyes, eyes, that on the vids, seemed to sparkle with suppressed mirth as though she realised how over the top the news coverage was. Now her gaze seemed flat and distracted.

"Yeah?" she asked, voice carrying barely disguised irritation.

Conrad's face had fallen slightly at her tone, but he might as well keep on going, "I just want to say how much of an honour," and did her eyes actually _roll_ as he said that? "it is to meet you! I saw you on the news and think it's great that you're out there showing the rest of the galaxy what humanity can do!"

Shepard had seemed almost...put out by his admittedly gushing enthusiasm but she had to expect a certain amount of attention from her fans, she was _famous_, after all. "Can I do something for you?" she had asked and look of utter horror flickered across her face, almost as though she'd realised her words could be wrongly interpreted. That she could feel that about him, well, that was when Conrad began to reassess his judgement of the Commander.

"Could I get an autograph?" he had asked, pressing on regardless.

"What? Look we're in the middle of something important here, I really have to be going. Sorry!" she had called back over her shoulder as she led the pair of aliens away. Conrad had felt as though she'd punched him the stomach. _Something important?_ How dare she! He was important, _humanity_ was important. Bad enough that she had totally blown him off but to go around with a pair of _aliens_? What did that say about the great Commander Shepard's regard for her own species if she'd rather spend time with turians and krogan? Turians had declared war on humanity not all that long ago and krogan...well krogan were blood-thirsty marauding savages. _Everybody knew that_.

Feeling dejected, and nursing growing feelings of righteous indignation, it was then that Conrad Verner's thoughts began to move along somewhat darker paths.

Weeks passed as Conrad went about his work, always keeping an eye on the vids for anything about the _Normandy_ and Shepard. His initial innocent interest was slowly being replaced by a much darker set of emotions. His wife noticed his preoccupation with the Spectre and had asked jokingly, "Is she your new squeeze, Conrad?"

"No. She's nothing to me," he had flatly replied, fighting to keep the simmering rage in check.

Two months after the initial encounter in the Wards, Shepard had again arrived on the Citadel. The news was abuzz with vague reports of troubles surrounding a research installation on Noveria but few facts were available. Conrad figured Shepard'd had something to do with it. Again, Conrad was browsing through the lower markets and again, Shepard had appeared, this time with an asari in tow. The asari was practically falling over her own feet in her haste to keep up with the longer legged woman. The look on blue-skinned woman's face was one of unbridled admiration. Conrad had seen the look on his own face in the mirror once. Not any more.

Deciding he owed it to himself, if nobody else to give it one more try, Conrad got Shepard's attention. The Spectre stood still for a few moments, that flat look in her eyes again. The asari spoke something into her ear, too softly for him to hear. Shepard, almost grudgingly it seemed, walked up to Conrad.

"Hello, Conrad," Shepard said, voice neutral. _Well, she remembers your name at least. There's a point in her favour_.

"I was wondering if I could take your picture?" Conrad asked, making sure to put a big cheese-eating grin on his face and inject a big dose of adoring fan into his voice. Shepard seemed about to refuse him _again _when the asari spoke up.

"Perhaps you should allow him to take your photograph, Commander. Where is the harm in that?"

Gritting her teeth as though feeling actual physical pain at the idea, Shepard nodded. "OK," she said, unenthusiastically.

"Just hold your gun out like this," Conrad demonstrated, pointing an imaginary pistol into the distance. Eyeing him bemusedly, Shepard unholstered her sidearm, ejected the ammunition block and mimicked his position.

Conrad used his omni-tool to capture her image, "Thanks a lot, Commander. I'm going to hang this in my living room! My wife will be so impressed," oh but it pained him to act the fool like that and the look Shepard gave him as she reloaded and holstered the sidearm wasn't doing him any favours either.

"No, no she won't, Conrad," Shepard replied, bluntly. Beside her the asari seemed shocked by the Spectre's behaviour.

"Think about it, you hang a picture of a woman who _isn't_ your wife in your living room and you think she'll be impressed by that? If it were me, I'd be thinking divorce."

"Shepard!" the asari gasped.

"I'm just saying. Look, Conrad, we gotta run. Take care," and just like that she was gone again.

"Bitch," Conrad muttered when she was safely out of earshot. She may be a Spectre but what right did that give her to treat her _fans _so casually? Before he could think too much about what he was doing, Conrad Verner found an arms dealer in the lower Wards and bought a pistol. Shepard thought she could just ignore her fans and walk all over their emotions? Well, Conrad Verner would show her.

"Conrad! Is that a _gun_?" his wife asked in a shrill voice as she witnessed him loading the weapon. Conrad rolled his eyes. He knew he should have waited until he was locked up in his study to begin playing with it.

"It's alright, honey," he replied, trying to soothe her. The last thing he needed right now was for Ellen to flip out about his owning a gun.

"But it's a gun!" Ellen said, unmollified.

"Ellen, it's for self-defense when I'm visiting the Wards. There's been a lot of crime down there, lately," which was quite true. Though much of the shooting that happened in the Wards in recent times had been directly attributed to Shepard.

"Fine, just keep that _thing_ locked up when you're not using it!" Ellen said. Conrad rolled his eyes again.

"Yes, dear," he replied dully, in the grand tradition of put-upon husbands the galaxy over.

Now, Conrad Verner stood in the shadows of the lower markets, feeling the hum of life from the various species around him. He was a part of them, but at the same time, separate from them. He had a purpose now. It wasn't anything as noble as saving the galaxy but, in his defense, Conrad felt that the salvaging of his own self respect was equally as important. To himself, if nobody else.

The Kessler was heavy in his hands as he waited for the Commander, that high and mighty bitch, to arrive. She would, sooner or later, it was just a matter of time. He'd caught word on the news on his way to work that morning that the _Normandy_ was again docked at the Citadel. So, for the first time in forever, Conrad had called in sick at the office and gone to wait for Shepard in the markets.

Conrad had spent altogether too much time in recent months, poring over the information on Shepard that was commonly available on the extranet and he felt as though he'd gotten to know her about as well as he could, without actually sitting down and, God forbid, having a _conversation with her_. Shepard appeared to be a creature of habit - every time she visited the Citadel, she made the rounds of the various traders, seeming to favour the rabble in the lower Wards. With her upbringing on Earth and running with gangs as a kid, he shouldn't have been so surprised by her low standards.

Be that as it may, Shepard's predictability as far as her shopping habits went, would be her undoing. And look here, there was the Spectre herself, coming out of her ivory tower to slum it with us poor schmucks, Conrad thought bitterly. Even better, she was alone for once. No turians or krogan, or starry-eyed asari. This was the best chance he would have to show her just what her behaviour towards him had wrought.

Keeping the gun hidden behind his back, Conrad stepped out of the shadows as the Spectre passed his position. Before he could think about what he was doing, and freeze up, he pressed the barrel of his weapon against the back of Shepard's head. She froze instantly.

"Hello, Shepard," Conrad spoke quietly into her ear, his breath disturbing a few strands of black hair.

"Conrad, what the hell are you playing at?" she replied, and did he hear a slight catch in her voice? He rather thought he did. The great Commander Shepard, taken by surprise by a _civilian_! This was golden!

"All I wanted from you was for you to sign your autograph," he went on, speaking slowly and clearly so she wouldn't miss a word. "That's all I wanted. A simple _autograph!" _he ground out, voice rising on the last word. "But could you give me even that much? Nooo! You were_ too busy_ playing the big hero to bother with your _fans!"_

"And you think shooting me right here is going to improve your situation?" Shepard replied. Swallowing hard, Shepard went on, "Conrad, I'm sorry for the way I treated you before but I really do have a lot to deal with." She winced as he ground the Kessler's barrel into the back of her neck.

"Oh, she has _a lot to deal with!_ Well forgive me for showing an interest! Who do you think you are, to treat the people who admire you and look up to you like that? Huh?"

"Verner, either shoot me dead or leave me the hell alone but don't you stand there whining about how I'm letting the fans down. I _know _I'm letting them down. I'm not the perfect person they make me out to be on the vids." her shoulders slumped as she sighed heavily.

Conrad paused, the gun shaking slightly in his hand. She did seem genuinely apologetic for her behaviour. Maybe he had taken things a bit too far? Lost in thought and appalled by what he had almost done, Conrad didn't notice, until it was too late, that Shepard was turning to face him.

Grasping his gun hand with a firm grip, Shepard bore down on Conrad's wrist, forcing him to release the pistol. It clattered to the floor between their feet, unnoticed by the milling crowds around them. Shepard pulled her own sidearm and jammed the weapon up under Conrad's jaw. His heart immediately began beating harder and a bead of sweat ran from his hairline and into his eye, stinging.

"Conrad, there are certain things I don't tolerate. Being bailed up by people who think I owe them something is one of them. The only reason I'm not going to shoot you right now is because I don't want to make a widow of your wife. I've done that too many times, recently. I am, however going to drag your sorry ass to C-Sec for them to take care of. From now on, stay out of my way."


	12. The Lottery

12. The Lottery

Author's Note: Credit goes to kali yugah for suggesting a 'win a date with Commander Shepard' scenario. Took me a while to get to it, sorry. Couldn't figure out the right way to approach it then figured a lottery would work. Evil things, lotteries :)

When the idea of a lottery with the profits going to the Widows and Orphans Fund was first put to her, Commander Shepard had been in favour of it. War was ugly and it left scars upon those who were left behind. Helping out by allowing the _Normandy'_s crew to run a lottery was the least she could do, she decided.

Until she thought to enquire as to the nature of the prize in the lottery.

"Say Joker," she began, sitting down in the vacant co-pilot's seat, "About this lottery, what's the prize?"

Uncharacteristic silence from her normally caustically sarcastic helmsman. Shepard knew then that something was majorly fubar with the situation.

"Well?" she pressed, turning her head to stare hard at Joker. The Flight Lieutenant's face remained resolutely pointed forward.

_If he's going to make me pull rank, he's going to regret it._ Shepard gave Joker a few more seconds' grace before letting him have it.

"Lieutenant Moreau," she snapped and Joker flinched at the harshness in her tone, "I asked you a question. Answer it!"

Joker's upper body stiffened in his chair, the closest he could get to standing at attention and snapping off a salute. "Well Commander, it's like this. The officers and crew got together-"  
"Clearly I wasn't a part of this get together," Shepard interjected. Joker decided it wouldn't be prudent to point out that interrupting another person when they were speaking was considered ill-mannered in most places.

"Well, you were ashore at the time, something about geth and Saren?" Joker shot a glance at Shepard, wished he hadn't. From the set of her jaw, the Spectre's teeth were grinding together. Briefly, Joker wondered what that must do to the enamel of her teeth.

"Anyway, we got together and bounced around ideas for suitable prizes - a week's shore leave in any part of Citadel space, free access to Spectre-issue gear-"  
"Gee, and here's little old me thinking _I_ was in charge of issuing Spectre gear," Shepard commented.

"Yeah, well, Kaidan shot that idea down pretty quick. Then somebody and I swear it wasn't me, came up with the idea of having you as the prize."

"I am _not_ some piece of _meat_ to be fought over, God damn it!" Shepard almost shouted, "A prize? Jesus Christ, Joker, what were you thinking?"

"Whoa, Commander, let me finish," Joker protested, raising his hands as though to ward off a blow, "The prize was meant to be a kind of date."

Shepard sat back in her seat, irritated. A date. A _date?_ "A date? As in a boyfriend-girlfriend _date_ date?"

"Uh yeah..." Joker answered sheepishly, suddenly finding something of immense interest outside the ship to look at, so he wouldn't have to face Shepard's eyes.

"Bloody hell," the Spectre breathed, staring out the cockpit windows. Outside, the stars were like diamonds scattered across a field of black velvet.

"So I suppose we'll have to come up with another prize?" Joker asked after a while.

"How many tickets were sold in this lottery?" Shepard asked, not really wanting to know, but, at the same time _needing_ to know.

"Thousands."

"What? How?" Shepard's head whipped around to face Joker. She winced as bones in her neck popped.

"Well, when we announced the, uh, _nature_ of the prize, _everybody_ fell over themselves to buy tickets. Lots and lots of tickets. It was insane," Joker explained, shaking his head.

"Thousands...everybody bought tickets?" Suddenly, Shepard felt as though all the breath had been sucked from her lungs and gasped.

"Yep," the helmsman confirmed, blithely ignoring protocol and not adding 'ma'am.'

Shepard breathed deep of the recycled air. She had no idea she was _that _popular. "Even Wrex?" she asked with some measure of trepidation.

"Mmm hmm," Joker confirmed.

"That's just wrong on so many levels," Shepard flatly stated.

"I know but what did you think I was going to do? Tell him _sorry, no tickets for you because you're krogan?_ Because, I kind of value my life, Commander and good luck getting a replacement pilot who can handle the Tantalus at full power," Joker protested, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the drive core.

"Bloody hell," Shepard said again, running a hand through her hair. This was wrong on so many levels. Bad enough that she suddenly found herself as the...prize in a lottery but the idea that everybody on the ship had paid who knew how many credits - credits, that, ultimately would benefit needy people. If Shepard pulled the pin on the whole thing, the Widows and Orphans Fund would be the real losers. Then she'd look like the evil bitch who killed Christmas. Great!

"Right," the Commander announced, and Joker turned to face her again, "Here's how things are: there are going to be conditions on this...date idea."

"Conditions?" Joker queried, sounding unsure of the idea.

"One, no inappropriate physical contact," Shepard went on, shuddering as she imagined the idea of her and Wrex...ewww.

"No touchy-feelly, got it," Joker made a note on the screen before him.

"Two, the date is over as soon as I say it's over," Shepard's gaze bored into Joker as he made another note.

"Anything else?" inquired the helmsman.

"Oh, there's plenty else, but it involves spacing whoever came up with this idea in the first place," Shepard muttered, making to leave the bridge.

"Hey Commander? I just want to say you're being awfully cool about this whole thing, it's neat."

"Oh, _that_ makes me feel so much better," Shepard said with forced humour.

As she left the bridge and headed aft, Joker's words played in a loop through her mind. _Thousands of tickets and everybody had bought them_. The Spectre truly hoped he was exaggerating. Not that she didn't appreciate her crew and got on with them well but there were _limits_ to how far she could go.

Bad enough that both Alenko and Liara had poorly-disguised _things_ for her, but _the entire freaking crew?_ How the hell did that happen? It wasn't as though she paraded around the ship naked giving her crew members come hither looks from beneath lowered eye-lashes. Although, looking down at herself, Shepard had to admit that the regulation ship-board uniform _did_ hug her curves a little too closely. Just what was she meant to do about _that_ anyway, get a boob reduction?

Hardsuit, full time, that was the ticket. Her customised Predator medium-class suit had exactly the kind of intimidation factor that had helped her out during so many tense negotiations with gun-toting hostiles. That would hopefully take care of the physical attraction people seemed to feel towards her but the Spectre knew there was more to it than that. It was that damnable 'open-door policy' established by Captain Anderson and carried on by herself that was the real problem, she realised. On the one hand, it was good for morale for her officers and crew to be able to come to her with any problems or concerns that they had about various issues. Which they did, _frequently_. But on the other hand, there had to be limits in place.

Take Alenko, as a for-instance. What he had gone through at Brain Camp was terrible and yes, Shepard felt for the man, she truly did but did he have to _keep_ _on about it? _Some days, it was all Shepard could do not to take him by the shoulders and shake him. And Williams with her constant hang-ups about her family and never getting the recognition she deserved? Plenty of soldiers were passed over for promotion for one reason or another and Williams being constantly on edge about non-humans would only hinder herself in the long term. Which brought her to Pressly, who was about as xenophobic as a man could get. If he mouthed off just _once more _about turians while she was in ear-shot...

And speaking of turians, even the reliable and stable Garrus had a few issues - mostly revolving around bureaucratic nincompoops and too much red tape. Shepard agreed with the former C-Sec officer...to a point. As a kid on the streets, the sector police had been no friend of hers and she realised that certain situations called for methods that, at times, circumvented rules and regulations. But, as Shepard had tried to explain to Garrus on more than one occasion, one must first _understand_ the rules in order to break them.

With a start, Shepard realised that pretty much everybody on board had some issue or other. That they had all managed to converge on the_ Normandy_ was strange in itself. That they all seemed to look to her to help them was stranger still. What was she, some kind of galactic saviour and emotional crutch for people to lean on? Hell, about the only person on board who _didn't _seem to have issues was Tali and she genuinely had reasons to have issues - her entire people hunted almost to extinction by the geth and forced into centuries of exile.

Although, if she were cruel, Shepard could point out that, since the quarians had created the geth in the first place, they were only reaping what they'd sown. But it'd take a really cold-hearted bitch to point that out and Shepard's heart wasn't nearly that frigid.

Days passed in a kind of blur as Shepard waited with grim expectation for the lottery to be drawn. She saw the faces of her crew in a different light now - was it Mike the requisitions officer who had the winning ticket? Was it Garrus? Shepard doubted he could tear himself away from the Mako's diagnostics computer long enough to buy a ticket, but anything was possible.

Finally, when the tension became almost too great to bear, Joker called her up to the bridge. Again seating herself in the co-pilot's seat, Shepard simply asked, "Well?"  
"It's a surprise," the pilot replied, grinning.

"Don't jerk me around, Joker," Shepard ground out, feeling her blood pressure spike, "I'm really not in the mood."

"Hey, don't blame me, Commander," Joker protested. "Didn't I mention it before?"  
"Mention what?" she replied, voice low, dangerous.

"It's a blind date," Joker smiled.

Shepard's head slowly rotated to face the helmsman. Again, she could feel the joints in her neck creak. "You seemed to neglect that when we spoke before."  
"Did I? Whoops!"

"I'd brig you, Joker, but that isn't an option right now," the Commander stated, slumping back in the seat.

"Yeah," the pilot replied calmly, "Besides, who would fly the ship?"

"And that is your one saving grace, Joker. A blind date, somebody kill me now," Shepard muttered, looking out the cockpit windows. "When is this going down, because the tension is killing me," she asked.

Joker merely smiled to himself. "We're due to land at the Citadel in twelve hours, Commander. I hear there's a fancy restaurant on the Presidium with a reservation in your name." The helmsman handed an unbelieving Spectre a business card with the time of the reservation printed on the back.

Wordlessly, Shepard snatched the card and left the bridge.

As the _Normandy_ approached its berth in one of the Citadel's numerous docking bays, Shepard stood in her cabin, fretting.  
She was fretting over what to wear for her stupid blind date, of all things. Full dress uniform? Too formal. Shipboard fatigues? Not formal enough. Hardsuit? Yeah, turning up encased head to toe in ceramel plate with her shotgun and sidearm would send out entirely the wrong signal. The kind of signal that said, "I'm a praying mantis and I kill those I mate with."

Not that it would ever come to mating, no way, nuh uh.

Shepard tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling, venting a growl of frustration as she realised she'd need to do some clothes shopping.

For almost twelve years, the Navy had provided her with all she needed in the way of clothing and other equipment and before that, her life on Earth was mostly spent engaged in pointless gang warfare with little time for trips to the mall.

Shopping for clothes was a concept utterly alien to her. She window shopped whilst on shore leave and occasionally picked up a few odds and ends but the concept of having to purchase a new outfit for a social engagement was a wholly new concept. Not one she found particularly pleasant, either.

Sighing, the Spectre fished the business card out of her pants pocket. The booking was for 1900 hours, Citadel time. A glance at her chronometer told her she had ten hours to find what she needed, that and invent a truly creative punishment for Joker as well.

Whoever invented clothes shopping deserved a very special place in Hell, Shepard decided, pawing through racks of dresses with ever-increasing frustration. The dresses themselves were wholly inappropriate - little black numbers that were cut to emphasise the wearer's feminine charms to their fullest advantage, and it was her charms that were at least partially responsible for her _being_ in this situation to begin with.

With a muttered curse, the Spectre wheeled away from the racks and made to leave the shop. She felt the need to put some holes in something and considered heading down to the C-Sec Academy and asking the range-master if she could use their firing range. Before she could leave, however, a voice called to her.

"Can I assist you with anything?" The voice belonged to the young saleswoman Shepard had noticed when she first entered the store. Upon entering the store, fully forty-five minutes ago, the young saleswoman had moved to assist Shepard but, catching Shepard's _don't mess with me_ vibe had backed off. No amount of commission was worth the threat of bodily harm. Now, however, the saleswoman decided that the customer was in dire need of help.

Sighing heavily, the Commander turned to face the woman; identified as Libby by the name tag pinned to her blouse.

"OK, here's the thing: I've been set up on a blind date," Shepard's lips twisted as though the words were sour in her mouth.

"And I'm guessing from your tone that a blind date's a bad thing?" Libby replied.

"Like you wouldn't believe. Basically I need a decent dress but _not _something that'll have whoever the hell my date is staring down my cleavage or up my skirt all night, you know what I mean?"'

"Tasteful and feminine, not slutty and tacky, gotcha," Libby said, gesturing for her customer to follow her. With another sigh, the Spectre fell into step behind the salesgirl, briefly wondering how much this latest outrage was going to cost her.

1905 hours Citadel time saw Commander Shepard seated alone at a table for two at a Presidium restaurant called Il Ristorante. Shepard had picked up enough Italian to know that Il Ristorante literally translated as _The Restaurant._ But, she reflected, she had worse things to worry about than dodgy restaurant names. Like the fact that her date was five minutes late.

Fiddling with the stem of her wine glass, Shepard didn't know whether she should be relieved or mightily pissed off. On the one hand, she was feeling relieved because her date not turning up meant she wouldn't be forced to make awkward small talk with...whoever. On the other hand, she was feeling slightly bent out of shape by the thought of being stood up. She was dealing with disciplined military men and women, after all. If their presence was required at a certain time and place, then they should damn well be there.

Muttering and oath, Shepard checked the dial of the elegant ladies' watch she'd purchased as well. All up, the dress, watch, shoes, handbag (handbag, what _had_ she been thinking?) and stockings had cost her well over five thousand credits. And for what? The time was now 1910 hours. Sighing, Shepard stared morosely down at the white tablecloth. She was going to kill somebody over this, oh yes.

The Commander looked up with a start as a small commotion flared up at the entrance to the restaurant. Craning her neck to see better, Shepard caught sight of a large number of Alliance military personnel in dress uniform all trying to force their way through the doors at the same time. The maitre'd seemed to be having a difficult time keeping order.

_What the hell? _Shoving her chair back so hard, it fell over, Shepard strode towards the group, tottering on her high heels. Whoever was responsible for inflicting _those_ on generations of women also deserved a special place in Hell, preferably right next to the fire and brimstone.

"What's going on here?" Shepard barked, switching effortlessly to Commander mode.

"These...people are attempting to gain entrance to the restaurant without a reservation," the maitre'd sniffed in that insufferably snooty manner that seemed to be a pre-requisite to becoming a maitre'd.

"They're with me," Shepard said, shaking her head as she recognised the group as all being from the _Normandy._

"All of them?" the maitre'd responded, taken aback.

Ignoring him, Shepard addressed Pressly, who was at the head of the group. Pressly's gaze kept flicking from his CO's face to her body and back again. "Pressly, what the hell's the meaning of this?"  
"Well, ma'am, when Joker attempted to draw the winning lottery ticket earlier tonight, the sheer number of entries logged into the computer caused a cascade failure in the primary VI core."

"You're saying Joker's lottery lobotomised the _Normandy?_" Shepard asked, unbelieving.

Pressly shrugged, "Pretty much, Ma'am."

"So...who won the lottery?" Shepard had to ask, though observing the sheer number of uniformed officers and crew, she had a fairly good idea.

"Well, Joker decided that after everybody had bought tickets that it would be fairest if everybody turned up. Sorry we're a bit late, Commander," Pressly finished.

Looking into the faces of her assembled crew and seeing the respect and admiration beaming out from each, Shepard was suddenly ashamed by her earlier uncharitable thoughts towards her crew members. Sure, they had issues, but they were still her crew.

Turning to the maitre'd, Shepard said, "We're going to need a bigger table."

A/N: I couldn't decide who should be the winner of the 'date.' Kaidan and Liara are too obvious and that angle's been done a lot better in other fics by people who aren't me and I liked the idea of the sheer number of lottery entries crippling the _Normandy's_ computer, so there you have it. Please, let me know what you think.


	13. Things You Wish You Could Say

A/N: This one's inspired by a discussion on the official Mass Effect forums regarding things you wish you could say in the game. I've always wanted a chance to mouth off a little at a certain councillor...

13. The Things You Wish You Could Say

Commander Shepard stood, shoulders slumped in the _Normandy's _airlock, waiting impatiently as the decon system's white light terminated with extreme prejudice all of the nasty little bugs, viruses, pathogens and thorian creeper gunk that had ended up splashing her hardsuit from head to toe.

Given the ungodly amount of filth she was caked in, the decon system took roughly five times as long as usual. Or maybe it only felt that way to Shepard, who unceremoniously had yet another alien vision jammed into her mind, courtesy of the asari commando Shiala whom the shore party had found swallowed up by the Thorian, a perverse 'gift' from Saren to the gigantic plant...thing that had covered much of the world of Feros. That Saren, she told herself, what a character. Beware of turians bearing gifts, she thought with a wry smile. _I'll have to share that one with Pressly._

Even with the Thorian dead, Shepard figured the surviving colonists would still need a very large amount of weed killer just to make sure the damn thing didn't sprout up somewhere else. Finally the VI decided that Shepard, Williams and Alenko weren't in any danger of exposing the crew to Thorian-itis and cycled open the inner airlock door.

Shepard turned to her squad-mates, "I'm heading to the comm room to brief the Council. Meet me there in ten for a debriefing." Alenko and Williams nodded and headed for the mess. Choosing to forego showering for the moment, Shepard made for the comm room and asked Joker to establish a link to the Council.

Soon enough, the amber-glowing holographic images of the Council appeared before her. Shepard hoped that her hardsuited appearance might force them to take the whole Saren situation a little more seriously. The asari councilor's eyes widened slightly but that was the extent of the their reaction.

"Commander Shepard," the gruff-voiced turian began, "Your helmsman forwarded us the report on Feros."

"Exo-geni should have informed us of the Thorian," the asari put in. _Geez, d'ya think?_ Shepard thought but didn't say.

"It is a pity that the Thorian was destroyed; it would have been an interesting subject for study," the salarian opined.

This time, Shepard couldn't keep her mouth shut, replying with barely concealed contempt, "Exo-Geni tried to study it and look how _that _turned out." The turian's mandibles flicked slightly in irritation. But then again, thought the Spectre, his entire existence was probably focused on being irritated by things.

"Yes of course," the salarian went on, "the mission must always take priority. At least the colony was saved."

"Of course it was saved!" the turian said angrily, "Shepard would go to _any_ lengths to save a _human_ colony!"

Shepard's mouth fell open in shock. Did he just accuse her of saving a colony for reasons of race? "Being human had nothing to do with it!" she snapped, tossing back her hair in annoyance.

"Alright," she went on, feeling her temper mount, "Here's what you do," she pointed at the image of the turian, "Find me a turian colony under attack by geth, slavers, door to door salesmen or evangelical hanar, whatever and I'll go out and rescue them! How's that sound?"

"You would do well to remember your place, Shepard," the turian spat. The asari turned to him and seemed to be about to placate him. _Yeah good luck with that, sister._

"Sometimes, I despair," Shepard went on, slumping into a seat in the comm room. "I truly do. If I had failed to save the colony, you'd be going nuts because of that. I _save_ the colony and you flat out accuse me of being a racist, xenophobic jerk! Back home, we have a saying, _He who lives in a glass house shouldn't throw stones,_ Councillor!"

Before any of them could reply, Shepard cut the connection. Feeling very tired all of a sudden, the Commander wished she could just tell the whole Council and Systems Alliance to kindly just stuff off and leave her be for a while.

Was that really too much to ask? Apparently so. Behind the lids of her closed eyes, as though tattooed upon them, there was an ever-growing list of 'assignments' she'd picked up since arriving on the Citadel - investigating Admiral Kahoku's missing recon team, investigating some odd biotic cult setup out in the boondocks of the Hawking Eta cluster, scanning keepers for a couple of scientists who, just to make things even more complicated, had to be persuaded not to whack each other, and the list just went on.

_Assignments? More like fetch and carry quests. I'm beginning to feel like a character in one of those old RPG games that Finch loved so much. Ding! You have gained enough experience to level up!_

Pulling herself to her feet, Shepard staggered into the Captain's cabin _This was supposed to be Captain Anderson's gig. _Wearily, feeling every one of her twenty-nine going on four hundred years, Shepard removed her hardsuit, dumping the parts by the bed and retreated beneath the blissful hot water of her own private shower. _Ohhh baby _she groaned to herself as her muscles began to unkink and she started to feel more her old self again.

Wrapping herself in a white terry towelling robe, the Spectre sat on her _Captain Anderson's_ bed and opened an intercom line to the bridge. "Joker?"

"Ma'am?" the helmsman replied.

"Plot a course for the Citadel and alert me when we're thirty minutes out. Pressly?"

"Yes, ma'am?" her XO promptly answered.

"I'm going to catch some rack time. You have the conn. I'm not to be disturbed unless somebody shows up with a Death Star and threatens to nuke something. Are we clear?"

"Aye, aye, Ma'am. I have the conn," Pressly acknowledged, thankfully not bothering to ask what a Death Star was. She'd tried explaining it to Garrus and the turian had believed that the idea of a giant moon-sized battle-station packing a planet-destroying laser was the stuff of fantasy. _Tell that to Sovereign_.

Shepard awoke from her sleep a half-hour before her scheduled wake-up call and decided to be a very naughty girl and just lie in bed for another little while. Reaching across to the small bedside shelf, she picked up a small digital music player and scrolled through the lengthy track listing until she found what she was looking for. Then she turned up the volume of the surprisingly powerful speakers up to 11.

Soon enough, Shepard was belting out the chorus of Audioslave's _Wide Awake_, a song which, given the Council's apparent inability to register the true threat of the Reapers, felt quite apt.

_Don't pull the sheet over my eyes  
__So I can sleep tonight  
__Despite what I've seen today  
__I find you guilty of the crime  
__Of sleeping at a time  
__When you should have been  
__Wide awake, wide awake_

---

Once again, Shepard, Williams and Alenko stood in the airlock, suited up and packing enough firepower between them to fight a small war - which was pretty much what they were doing anyway. The airlock hissed open and, as she exited the ship onto the Citadel docking bay, the Commander spied a tall middle-aged man in a Systems Alliance naval officer uniform. With a sinking heart she noticed the rank insignia and recognised him as Rear Admiral Mikhailovich, a fellow so proudly xenophobic and Earth-first he managed to make Pressly look all warm and cuddly by comparison.

Shepard jerked upright as the Lieutenant saluted the Admiral, all but shouting "Ten HUT!" as he did so. Shepard saluted the Admiral, saying, "Commander Shepard, SSV _Normandy."_

"At ease," Mikhailovich said and the three crew fell into parade rest. The Admiral stood expectantly before them, reviewing them and the ship berthed behind them. Finally he spoke again, "You don't know who I am, do you Commander?"

_Buddy, if you don't know who you are, what the hell hope do I have? Sir?_

"Rear Admiral Mikhailovich, commander of the Sixty-Third Scout Flotilla. After shakedown, the _Normandy_ was slated for my unit." The Admiral paused and went on, "Instead the Council got its paws, claws, tentacles, whatever on it and you."

_Somehow I think you're more concerned about the ship than me,_ Shepard's increasingly undiplomatic mind whispered.

Mikhailovich went on, "I don't begrudge the Alliance's decision to throw you to the Council, it's an opportunity. I _do_ begrudge this over-designed piece of tin!"

_He did not just call the Normandy 'over-designed!'_

"Sir, with respect, the _Normandy_ is a fine ship and she's served us well so far." _If an observer elects to overlook Alenko's epilepsy-inducing control panel and the slowest elevator in creation_.

"I'm here to make an inspection, Commander," the Admiral declared. "And make sure this vessel is up to snuff."

_Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear._

"Please do, Admiral," Shepard managed to answer, "We'd be proud to show her to you."

"I'll just bet," Mikhailovich ground out, "Wait here, I won't be long."

It wasn't until _after _the Rear Admiral had disappeared through the airlock that the Commander realised she should have requested that Wrex, Garrus, Tali and Liara find a place to hide from the notoriously pro-human Mikhailovich. "I just hope he doesn't say something to piss off Wrex or I'll have to explain how an Admiral came to be reduced to a few scraps of meat on my watch."

"I think Wrex can contain himself, Ma'am," Alenko said, giving the krogan far too much credit in Williams' opinion.

"Uh, LT, could be you're thinking of a _different _krogan."

Before either superior officer could reply, the airlock cycled open and Mikhailovich re-emerged, looking even more put out than before, which was exactly the kind of perverse miracle Shepard had hoped not to see.

"I've completed my inspection, Commander and I am not happy."

Shepard's mouth replied, quite independent of her brain, "Seems to be a fair bit of that going around."

Mikhailovich's eyes all but bugged from his face, "You would do well to remember who you're addressing, _Lieutenant_ Commander!" he barked, emphasising Shepard's junior rank. She felt her hackles rise in response. It was only a matter of time before she was bumped up a rank to full Commander, heck, _Captain_ even. Captain Shepard...had a ring to it.

"My apologies, sir," she brown-nosed. "The stress of my current assignment is taking a toll on me," _Yeah, let him think it's incipient PTSD, he'll love that_. "It won't happen again." _Yeah, right_.

For the next several minutes, Mikhailovich detailed, exhaustively, all of the things that were, in his view, wrong with the _Normandy_.

The position of the commanding officer aft of the crew.

The horrendous cost of the element zero core _yet he completely ignores the broken (it must be) elevator or the flickery control panel. Forget L2 implants, it's that control panel that gives Alenko migraines._

And finally the 'aliens' on the crew "Asari? _Turians?_ Commander, what were you thinking?"

"Well, they wanted to help me track down Saren and nail his ass to the nearest wall and I thought we could use the extra help."

Lieutenant Alenko and Gunnery Chief Williams stood still as statues, trying not to attract the Admiral's attention. Alenko was afraid that Shepard had cracked, why _else_ would she smart-mouthing an Admiral?

Mikhailovich's eyes grew round as saucers as Shepard continued blithely on, "And don't forget the quarian we got in the engine room. Oh and the krogan. And a funny thing happened the other day...we found half of a missing Brazilian soccer team stuck way up in the Andes mountains after their plane crashed. They'd run out of food and were busy cannibalising each other. We rescued them and put them to work swabbing the decks. Admiral, the the decks have _never_ been cleaner! You could eat off the decks. Hell, I can see my _reflection _in the decks! Granted, I can see a few strands of grey hair and I'm not even thirty yet but, like I said before, stress. Forget combat, Admiral, it's the stress that'll kill you."

All through Shepard's diatribe, delivered through constantly grinning lips, the Admiral struggled to maintain his composure. If she weren't a Spectre he'd have busted her back down to Serviceman First Class and transferred her to his own ship to serve out the rest of her career as his personal shoe-shine girl. Instead, all he did was grind out, "Are you smart-assing me, Shepard?"

Shepard smiled widely, feeling her face ache. "Me?" she said, all wide-eyed innocence, "Smart mouth an_ Admiral?_ No sir!"

* * *

A/N: I may keep on updating _Normandy Lives_ as more ideas come to me. We'll see.


	14. The Groundening

They gave Shepard a Raw Deal. And nobody gives Shepard a Raw Deal. Wait, wrong intro.

---

"You son of a bitch!" Williams shouted at Udina, "You're selling us out!"

Donnel Udina turned calmly to her, smoothing out his cream jacket. "Oh I _wish_ I was selling you out. I need the credits. I feel as though I've been wearing this same outfit forever," he said, plucking lint from his sleeve with a disdainful expression on his face.

"Yes," the salarian councilor put in from where he stood with the turian and asari, high atop their figurative ivory tower, standing in judgement over all. "You _have_ been emitting what is, quite frankly, the most awful stench for some time now, Ambassador."

The asari continued, "We didn't wish to raise the issue before now for fear you might take offence and declare war on us but since you mentioned it..."

"Take a bath, Ambassador," the turian rapped out.

Shepard rolled her eyes, wishing for the _nth _time that she could simply pull her sidearm and shoot the lot of them between the eyes. Then she'd find that slag of a reporter, Ms Al-Jilani and cap _her _ass too. Her, Conrad Verner, that annoying git hitting up passers by for drugs outside Flux and pretty much everybody who'd begged her for one favour or another since she became a Spectre. God helps those who help themselves, after all. Not that Shepard was comparing herself to a god.

"After everything we've done for you..." Williams was protesting. Wrex simply stood immobile, eyeing the turian and salarian councillors as though estimating how many bites it would take for him to swallow them. Two apiece, he decided and bared his fangs at them.

"Oh come now," the asari said smoothly, "Surely a woman of your intellect, Commander, should have seen this eventuality coming. After all, we've done nothing but hold back humanity for the past twenty-six years. By the Goddess, you tried to tell us that Saren had gone rogue and we all but called you a liar. And now you act so surprised when we tell you we're grounding your ship?"

Wrex turned to Shepard and muttered, "She does have a point, Shepard."

Shepard shrugged eloquently, said, "Stuff the lot of yez," turned on her heel and stalked out of the Council Chambers. As Williams and Wrex jogged after her to catch up, Shepard delivered the one finger salute over her shoulder to the three gobsmacked Councillors as well as Udina who was discreetly sniffing the armpits of his suit.

The three stood in the elevator, enduring the long, looooong ride from the Council Chambers, and was it just Shepard or did the Citadel Tower not resemble a gigantic phallic symbol to anybody else? _I'm going down inside a gigantic phallic symbol. I only just realised how filthy that sounds. I need a shower._

Hesitantly, Williams asked, "What are you going to do, Skipper?"

Shepard turned to face the younger woman, "Something I should have done a long time ago, Williams."

"Shoot Udina in the back of the head?" Wrex asked, feeling hopeful.

Shepard shot him a brief glance, "No."

Undaunted, Wrex asked, "Let _me _shoot Udina in the back of the head?"

"No," Shepard repeated.

Wrex folded his arms across his chest. "Dammit!" he hissed.

Arms crossed, Shepard glared at the krogan. "It's always shooting people in the head with you, isn't it?"

"Oh that's rich, coming from you!" Wrex retorted. "How many people have _you _shot between the eyes lately? Let me see...Jeong, Major Kyle, Corporal Toombs, that guy who abducted Chairman Burns, Fist...wait, that was me. Hell, you're even more bloodthirsty than _I _am!" Wrex said admiringly.

Shepard ignored Wrex and turned to Williams. "I'm taking some time out, Williams," Shepard said calmly as the lift doors finally hissed open and the group dispersed out into the C-Sec docking bays. "We've all been under the gun for far too long. The Council thinks they can handle Saren and the Reapers? Fine, let 'em. Me? I'm gonna sit down, put my feet up and watch Sovereign rip the bastards a new one."

Williams was shocked. This wasn't the same Commander Shepard who'd almost single-handedly prevented the annihilation of the colony on Eden Prime. This wasn't the same Shepard who'd risked her life to save her own on Virmire, sacrificing Lieutenant Alenko.

"Uh, Skipper. It _has _occurred to you that when Saren shows up, we'll still be docked to the Citadel and right in the firing lines. Hasn't it?" Williams almost pleaded.

Shepard stopped and turned to face Williams, a scary kind of intensity etched in her features. "Not my problem any more, Williams."

"Ma'am, with due respect, you can't just sit this out! You have to find a way to get off the station and fight Saren!"

"Oh please," Shepard rolled her eyes. "This from the woman who thinks we should treat the 'aliens' like a hunting dog and sic them on the bear and run for it."

"I....Skipper, I've changed since then! We _need_ to do something or we'll all die!"

Shepard walked off, "Yap yap yap," she said, opening and closing her right hand to mime a blabbing mouth.

Willliams and Wrex exchanged glances, "She's gone completely insane," Williams concluded.

"I dunno," Wrex replied, scratching his jaw, "I kinda like the idea of making those bastards do all the heavy lifting for a change."

Williams shook her head, grabbed the krogan by the arm and dragged him in the direction of the elevator, "Come on! We have to find Captain Anderson, he can talk some sense into her."

Aboard the _Normandy_, Shepard paused in the airlock to remove her hardsuit, tossing the pieces haphazardly in the corner for somebody else to pick up. She was on vacation, damn it! And the time off was starting right the hell now! Clad now in her shipboard fatigues and with bare feet, the Commander walked along the aisle between the two rows of stations behind the bridge, enjoying the coolness of the decking beneath the soles of her feet.

_I should do this more often._ Stopping at a random heat monitoring station, Shepard waved off the salute of the crewman and said, "Serviceman Parker?"

"Ma'am?" Parker replied, wandering why the Commander was choosing now to pay any attention at all to the crew members. All she ever seemed to do was talk to Williams, Alenko and the aliens, sorry _non-humans _stashed below decks. And now that Alenko was free-floating atoms, _now_ she decided to pay attention to the _rest_ of the crew? Well screw her and the horse she rode in on!

"Clear the station, Parker, take a break. Make yourself a coffee or read those girlie magazines I know you have hiding behind that loose bulkhead panel in engineering."

"Ma'am..I," Parker began but, seeing the look in the Commander's face, got up and left his station.

Shepard, ignoring the looks from the rest of the crew, settled into the chair and swung her feet up onto the station. "Oh yeah," she said loudly, "_this is the life_."

Clapping her hands together as though she were royalty, she said, "Somebody bring me an iced tea, chop chop!" then she laughed. And it was the laugh of the damned.

---

"Captain Anderson, thank God you're here!" Williams gasped as she and Wrex pushed through the doors into Udina's office. Anderson looked up as they entered.

"Where _else_ would I be? It's not like anybody made any kind of allowances for me after I was kicked off my own ship! It's like they all expected me to just sit around twiddling my thumbs until a critical moment arose and I was suddenly thrust back into a position of all-too-brief importance before being shoved aside again!"

Williams and Wrex looked at each other for a long second. "He's completely lost it," Wrex whispered to Williams. "I swear, you humans don't handle rejection at all well, do you?"

"Captain Anderson," Williams said carefully. "Commander Shepard needs your help. The Council grounded her and instead of fighting them on it, she's just given up."

Anderson folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his seat, "Uh huh. We all knew this would happen eventually. Given all she's been through," Anderson began ticking off points on his fingers, "Growing up alone on the streets, surrounded by criminals, then watching her entire unit being turned into Thresher chow on Akuze...I'm surprised she's lasted this long before going completely off her rocker."

"Captain, please! All I'm asking you is to talk to her, one soldier to another. Make her see sense!"

Anderson sighed. "Fine. It's not like I was doing anything important here anyway."

Getting to his feet, Anderson said, "I'll tell her to meet me at Flux. If I get enough vodka and red bull into her, she'll be like putty in my hands."

Williams frowned, "And when she sobers up and realises you manipulated her while she was drunk to the eyeballs? What then?"

"Hopefully by then she'll be locked in mortal combat with Saren and will direct any rage at me towards him. That'll learn him not to shaft me."

Williams and Wrex traded glances. "Get her drunk and pack her off to Ilos? Great plan, Captain. Great plan."

"Can _you_ think of anything better?" Anderson paused for a few moments and when neither one replied, continued, "Fine."

---

"Uh Commander," Joker began, "There's a transmission coming in..."

"If it's Hackett, tell him to get lost!" Shepard yelled back from her station. The console before her was covered with empty glasses of iced tea.

"Commander, it's Captain Anderson and he says it's important," Joker persisted.

Shepard rolled her eyes, "Important, I'll just bet it is. I bet he's feeling all depressed and lonely and needs a drinking buddy."

"He said to meet him in that club in the Wards. Flux?"

"See?" Shepard replied as she swung her feet back to the floor. "Where are my boots?"

Eventually, with twenty glasses of iced tea sloshing around in her stomach, Shepard ventured forth from the _Normandy_ which was currently little more than a horrendously expensive doorstop and proceeded to Flux. Once inside the club, she studiously ignored the pleas from various passers-by for help with one crisis or another and found Anderson. The former captain of the _Normandy_ sat at a table alone, a glass half-full of an amber fluid before him.

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Shepard asked.

"Take a seat, Shepard," Anderson invited. The Commander shrugged and sat in the chair then slouched down so that she was half in and half out of it. Maintain correct posture? Screw that!

"So, Chief Williams tells me that the Council grounded the _Normandy?_" Anderson began and sipped his drink. "What do you plan to do about it, Shepard?"

Shepard shrugged, reached up behind her head and pulled her hair out of its ponytail, shaking it loose. "Do? Captain, even if I wanted to, which I don't, I couldn't _do_ anything!"

"So you're just giving up?" Anderson said, leaning forward and staring into her eyes, challenging her. "Just like that? You're disappointing me, Commander," he said and shook his head.

"Pfft. Don't try that on with me. Captain, we've fought for so long just for these bastards," she waved her arms around to encompass the room, "to take us seriously. For almost three decades we've carried the can for them, played second fiddle to them and this is how they treat us in return?"

Anderson nodded understandingly, and waved over a waitress. "Bring me a bottle of vodka and a case of red bull," he said to her. The waitress nodded and left.

"Vodka and red bull, Captain?" Shepard smiled slightly. "Trying to get me drunk?"

"Yes," Anderson said flatly. "If that's what it takes to get you to change your mind, I'll do it."

Shepard laughed and said, "I'll drink you under the damn table, Anderson."

---

Three standard hours and a great many drinks later, Anderson and Shepard, both cataclysmically smashed, reeled out of Flux, each using the other for support as they staggered down the stairs towards the nearest mass transit vehicle. As they went, they sang old sea shanties and giggled uncontrollably.

"What'll we do with the drunken sailor, drunken sailor, drunken sailor, early in the morning?"

As the vehicle lifted off and flew towards the docking bay, Shepard muttered, "You know what I oughta do, Andershon?"

"What?"

"I oughta find a way to deactivate that lockout and go kick Saren in his manpartsh. Yeah, thass what I'll do! hic!"

Anderson smiled as Shepard passed out and began formulating a plan. A plan that involved punching Udina in the face.

And the rest we already know.

**A/N:** After seeing how well _Random Acts of Virmire _was received, I decided to write this. I wanted to poke a little fun at little things like Udina wearing the same clothes all the time and Shepard's penchant for shooting people in the head. And the tower? That's just begging to have the piss taken out of it.


End file.
